


Paint Me

by FatalViolet520



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Birthday Celebrations, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dates, Domestic, Excessive use of petnames, Fighting/Arguing, Fluff, Graduation, House Hunting, Insecure Lee Minho | Lee Know, M/M, Making Out, Mention of alcohol, Moving In Together, NOTHING SPICY OKAY THIS IS A FAMILY FRIENDLY SERIES, Overworking, Self-Esteem Issues, Sharing a Bed, art student! jisung, communication is the key to a healthy relationship buddies, graphic designer! jisung, implied past possibly abusive relationships, minho has low impulse control like me, or like jisung calls minho baby a lot, photographer! minho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2019-10-09 01:08:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 44,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17397197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatalViolet520/pseuds/FatalViolet520
Summary: Pink is their first date together when Jisung takes him to the amusement park. Orange is when Jisung paints his back for the first time in the most gorgeous hues of it imitating the sunset even though he can’t see it.Black is the night sky when they kiss for the first time, the velvet darkness speckled with glimmering lights that they couldn't care for. Silver is the first time they fight, tears glistening moonlight when stress and resentment builds up and overflows.Purple is when Minho dyes it as a surprise for their one year anniversary because Jisung dared him. Green is when Minho is distracted only to find his arms painted with the most gorgeous vines and they’re dotted with small bursts of colour.Gold is the ring they give each other when they’re still too young but entirely sure. They still have a lifetime to paint each other.





	1. Pink

**Author's Note:**

> Important Info:
> 
>   * There will be warnings for each chapter at the beginning, please read it <3
>   * This will be a multichap, a chapter for each month! Feel free to use this fic to mark your 2019 it's the only thing keeping me going through January
> 

> 
> WARNINGS: reference to a possibly abusive relationship in the past
> 
> dasjfo fucking he llo there people, i am here to announce my ambitious 2019 fic :') i hope it goes well!! one chapter a month, so when you get an update, congratulations, you survived another month of 2019! as always, i hope you like this beginning chapter! i realise its pretty short but it will get longer when we have more to expand on!! and HAPPY JANUARY 2019 is old already ;;;;

 

_you've waited long enough_

_the seeds of hope are now planted,_

_a vision of pink colouring your life_

_believe a little longer_

 

* * *

 

 

If one believed in soulmates, does that make one whimsical? If one didn’t, did that make one cynical? Was there really no grey area for this? Perhaps... soulmates are nothing more than a lone sock that has found its pair, people whose hearts come together like the slow meeting of time, nothing more than someone who compliments you, not a lost half, for one is as whole as one can be.

 

Soulmates are everywhere. 

 

Just like love is. And it’s spring, and spring is quite undeniably, possibly, the season of love, though any season could be the season of love if one wasn’t a coward. And Lee Minho is  _ not _ a coward, let it be known. Which is how Minho finds himself heading off his roommate, Chan, one weekend morning where he actually gets up early, for once. 

 

“You sure you’ll be okay?” Chan asks a little skeptically, “You sure the person isn’t some… sketchy serial killer or something? Do you want me to go with you?” Still, he doesn’t move from where he’s parked at his desk, staring intently at his laptop screen while talking to Minho. 

 

“I’ll be fine,” Minho says airily, “You only want me safe because then you’ll have to pay the full rent and you’re broke after spending it all on your speakers.” He grabs his wallet off his table and shoves it in his back pocket, sparing a glance at the mirror before taking his jacket. 

 

“Whatever,” Chan says grudgingly, swivelling around to look at Minho, “You got everything? Phone? Wallet?” 

 

Minho slaps his back pocket and nods. 

 

“You’re going to slap your own ass off,” Chan observes. 

 

“Then you’ll have someone that’s like you,” Minho says, and shoots out the door into the stairwell before Chan can figure out what he meant. Fishing out his phone, he checks it one more time as he descends the stairs and out into the streets, wind blowing the last vestiges of cold into his cheeks.  _ Meet me at the bus stop near the university _ , the text says,  _ I’ll be there at 11, see you! _ Minho had texted back a  _ Okay, I’ll see you there! _ and he wonders if he came off slightly enthusiastic. But he supposes his enthusiasm can be blamed on the fact that this is his first date in a long, long time.

 

Sure, he’s 22 this year, and he’s been asked out a fair few times, has dated a fair few times and had one serious relationship, but that had ended nightmarishly and he had been scared to start dating again ever since. But now - he thinks he’ll have a great date, if not, at least a fun time at the date.

 

Minho arrives at the bus stop just as it turns 11, and huffs. There is no one to be seen, and he’s glad he didn’t arrive with a smile or he’d look disappointed. The thought that he’s been stood up runs briefly through his mind before there’s a tap on his shoulder and he turns around - 

 

To see the brightest smile he’s ever seen in his entire life. 

 

“Hey, it’s me,” Guy with the brightest smile he’s ever seen says, “We’re here so… Wanna go? The bus is due in 5 minutes.” 

 

“Ye - Yeah,” Minho says, suddenly feeling a bit shy. This guy - Han Jisung, as he was introduced - had apparently seen him a few weeks back, asked around for him and only last week caught ahold of him and asked him on a date.  _ Because - uh - you looked friendly _ ? Jisung had said weakly after exchanging phone numbers, and Minho had laughed and agreed to set a date.

 

_ Jisung said you were so beautiful and I feel like he’s gonna draw you a lot _ , Changbin, one of Jisung’s friends had said,  _ Jisungie’s first muse in his entire art student career _ . Which was entirely ironic, because to Minho, Jisung was so, so pretty and he’s holding back the urge to start taking photos of Jisung even though the lighting is horrible in the dim bus they’re in and the windows are slightly grimy, filtering the sunlight with a grainy tint.

 

“So - art student?” Minho asks, plucking up the courage to start a conversation, “How is it?” 

 

“It’s nice,” Jisung says, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m in my second year and it’s been pretty nice so far. I get to study what I wanted to so - yeah, I’m happy. And… You’re a photographer, right? Changbin-hyung said Chan-hyung told him… But he didn’t say I asked for you, so I don’t think he knows about this?” 

 

“Yeah, I work for Nylon magazine - I’m not sure if you know about it -” Jisung affirms that he does, “- I work for that magazine and I freelance in my spare time. And yeah, Chan-hyung doesn’t know. I can’t wait to prank the fuck out of him...” He trails off as Jisung voices his agreement to prank their hyung.

 

“That’s cool!” Jisung says enthusiastically, then he starts asking more about photography, chattering away about how amazing it is. It’s a fresh change from the people who don’t really take interest in what he’s doing, and talk about his career propels them the whole bus ride. When they get off, they can see the ferris wheel and music drifting their way, the amusement park just a ten minute walk away. 

 

“Let’s go?” Jisung asks, smile still blinding, and Minho agrees, bedazzled, entranced by sunshine distilled into human form then - then he  _ remembers _ . Remembers why there’s a reason he refused to go on a date for years. Remembers why when he heard Jisung was asking for him the first time round, he had bolted back home and shut down. Remembers that he’s been hurt, he’s hurt, still hurting, and that he cannot, cannot trust anyone at first sight. 

 

He looks as Jisung insist he pay for the tickets, his own smile wavering a little bit as Jisung hands the money to the clerk, at the edge of darkness in the midst of all the light. 

 

“Hyung?” Jisung says, waving the tickets, “Do you wanna… go?” He trails off, Minho’s expression slightly pained, brows creased and mouth pinched in a tortured smile. 

 

Minho looks at him. Just looks at him, soaks in the worried expression with the faint linger of a smile tracing his lips, soaks in the sunlight and the soft wind and wonders if he can trust Jisung. 

 

“I’m good,” Minho says, “Just lost in my thoughts. Where do you wanna go first?” 

 

And it’s difficult. It  _ will  _ be difficult. It’s hard not to flinch if someone raises a hand, or wince when someone’s shouting too loud. He’s still soft and still naive, falls easily and trusts in the blink of an eye which is why he’s been hesitant all this time to find someone again, but maybe - maybe it’s time he look up and try again. Thoughts swirl through his mind, thousands a second,  _ what if Jisung is just entertaining you, what if he’s actually an asshole like him, what if what if what if _ \- 

 

“Hyung, there’s a fantasy ride!” 

 

There’s more hope than he could ever imagine. 

 

Smiling, he follows Jisung towards the fantasy ride, the words flashing against the blue of the sky, and that’s when someone catches Minho’s eye. The same build and hair colour, the way their back had a slight hunch and the way they carried themselves - it reminded Minho of  _ him _ , but there was no way. 

 

No way. 

 

“Are you okay? Have you seen something?” Jisung asks, worried. Minho had been awfully distracted for the past 15 minutes or so, and he had been worried maybe he didn’t want to come on the date after all, but Minho assures him he’s fine, and they continue walking, Minho now trying his best to come up with small talk. 

 

They reach the fantasy ride, decorations brightly lit up and flashing guaranteed happiness at the patrons, with some people are settling in to the latest open-air train that runs through the tunnel. They wait in line for a while before it’s their turn, and then they settle down in the seats with childlike wonder, excitement building as the train sets off. 

 

It’s fun. It truly, really is. 

 

Holographic fireworks burst around them silently and lifelike animations run alongside their train on the walls, so real that Minho almost reaches out to take their hand. He’s so startled when a holographic dolphin dives right through his stomach that he bursts out laughing, Jisung following suit.

 

It’s a kind of manic, unweighted, happiness that sets Minho’s senses alight as he looks over, the laughter and smile on JIsung’s face reflected on his own. Jisung looks adorable laughing as hard as he is, and for one moment he’s free, unburdened, and the thought occurs to him, unbridled and untainted -  _ I can be happy with Jisung _ then the same worry of  _ but will i really _ sounds in his mind. 

He forces the thought away as silent fireworks explode around them, the animations dazzling and sparkling, letting them distract him from his mind, and he genuinely enjoys it, giggling at the animations leap and jump above, beside and around them.  _ Guaranteed happiness _ , it had said, and delivered good on its promise. 

 

They emerge from the bright darkness into equally bright sunlight, the ride leaving them in a giddy mood, and Minho’s looking around, wondering where to go next. He’s just about to suggest going on the teacups or bumper cars when he sees him. 

 

Minseok. His ex-boyfriend. His ex-bastard-boyfriend, Min-fucking-seok.  

 

It takes a while for Minho to regain control of himself, with Jisung having to shake him to bring him back. His brain is whirling, a constant stream of  _ get away get away get away  _ so the only logical thing is to walk away so he does, obeying both his brain and the rapidly worsening feeling in his gut.

 

“Let’s go this way,” Minho says rigidly, beginning to pull a bewildered Jisung with him. 

 

“Wh - What?” Is all Jisung manages to get out before they’re starting to go who-knows where. 

 

They haven’t even walked ten paces when they hear someone talk behind them. "Lee Minho?" A voice sounds from behind them, and the voice doesn’t sound particularly nice, each syllable dripping with contemptment, something like malice lurking underneath each word. Beside Jisung, Minho stiffens, tenses. 

 

“It’s been a long time, Minho,” The guy says, a sudden change in personality from his tone as they turn around to face him. “How have you been? Been round with -” He eyes Jisung with none too little aggression, “- Many people lately?” There’s a nasty bite to his words and Jisung is ruffled, narrowing his eyes at this stranger.  

 

“What the hell are you doing here, Minseok?” Minho says, and he sounds calm, but there’s an undercurrent of anger that tells Jisung there’s more than what meets the eye. A past that they had together that didn’t spell out happily ever after.

 

“Just as feisty as you were when we were together,” Minseok says, laughing easily, “I miss you so much these days, Minho, you were -”

 

“Fuck  _ off _ ,” Minho says, and his voice is shaking.

 

“Oh, baby,” Minseok says, sighing and resting a hand on Minho’s waist as he approachs them, “You really -”

 

“ _ Don’t fucking touch me _ ,” Minho snaps, then slaps Minseok’s hand off, threatening to twist it painful. “You have no right to even look at me after what you did, so fuck off and go back to hell. I’m on a  _ date _ \- something you never took me on and don’t understand. Good-fucking-bye, Minseok.” He ends his statement with a firm hand to Minseok’s chest and a fiery expression that suggests death. 

 

There’s a small pause in which Minseok’s pleasant expression slides right off and shatters on the floor, then he turns around abruptly, choosing to walk away. Even as he does, Minho looks torn, anger and regret swimming in his expression, and his lower lip is trembling, like he’s recalling the past. 

 

“Hy - hyung?” 

 

“I’m okay!” Minho says, too quickly, too soon. “I’m okay. Let’s go,” He adds, and starts walking to the next attraction. There's a charged atmosphere between them as they walk slightly too fast to somewhere they haven’t even decided upon on, and Minho looks ready to murder everyone on the street. The thought that their first date took an unconventional turn crosses Jisung’s mind, but it flits away when they walk further into the amusement park, the crowd thinning out slightly this far in.

 

This calls for careful treading. "Hyung," Jisung starts lightly, "You wanna go to the haunted house? Looks like we could do we with a bit of screaming.” Minho doesn’t say no. 

 

JIsung leads the way, Minho following him blindly; yet there's quite a crowd in the amusement park today, and they're buffeted by the crowd. Out of fear for losing Minho, Jisung grabs Minho's hand quite naturally, and they make their way through the masses, approaching the long line to the haunted house. It doesn’t occur to him that it’s anything unusual, but Minho had directed his stare towards their linked hands, and Jisung wonders if he's offended. He loosens his hold and makes to pull away, and for a moment it seems like he'd slip away, then Minho's fingers tighten around his.

 

"Stay," Minho says quietly, “Please”, now looking at Jisung and hand clutched around his.

 

"O - Of course, if you don't mind," Jisung says.

 

“I don’t,” Minho murmurs. 

 

The line for the haunted house seems to take ages, especially with the growing silence between them. It isn't even a silence of awkwardness where they don't know what to say; it's a silence of  _ one of our exes showed up and started a scene when we were on a date _ and Jisung doesn't quite know how to apologise for sticking his nose in their business; but Minho's hands is firm and warm in his... It makes it a little better.

 

And it only gets better. The moment they enter the haunted house, they're plunged into absolute darkness and Jisung swears he can't feel himself in the darkness. His eyes are open but he can't see anything and his mind starts going into overdrive, imagining things and his breath is caught somewhere in his chest, he can't tell and -

 

" _ Hey _ !" Minho says loudly, too loudly, then Jisung  _ feels  _ his hand being squeezed too tight,  _ feels  _ Minho press against his side,  _ feels  _ the terrified whimper underneath the bravado Minho puts on as he shouts at the zombie who'd lunged at him. He feels all that, and the dim lanterns hanging in sparse spaces from the walls starts to glow.

 

Feels all that and his breath punches out of him in one quick rush because he can feel again.

 

" _ F _ \- off!" Jisung shouts, narrowly avoiding swearing, and they're clutching at each other, screaming too loudly for comfort but it's okay. They make their way through the darkness, frightened by the actors that hang out of empty portrait frames, scream at the cold hands that grab their ankles, yell when whispers cross over the heads and disorientate them. 

 

It’s funny how you don’t realise how close you get when you’re scared and it’s dark. 

 

Fifteen minutes later, they stumble into unfiltered sunshine and they squint into the blue sky once again, adjusting to the brightness. Their hearts are racing and throat itchy from screaming too loudly and they might have some bruises where they banged into the walls in the darkness out of fear, and the sun feels so warm on their too cold skin.

 

And they’re still holding hands, clammy palms and all. 

 

Moving past the exit, they lean against the wall of the haunted house, catching their breath from the running and screaming they decided to subject themselves to. The silence isn’t oppressive or charged this time, just warm and relaxed and there are words that the both of them want to speak, waiting to fall when they open their mouths. 

 

“Hey,” Minho suddenly says, still short of breath, “I - I wanted to - say I’m sorry. For - you know - Minseok. He’s an ex of mine and… I dumped him because he was an asshole and he’s still an asshole and I got kinda - kinda angry, I’m sorry, it’s supposed to be our first date.” 

 

Jisung looks over, words about to overflow in his mouth -  _ it’s okay, don’t worry, we all have shitty exes _ \- then he sees the look on Minho’s face. Minho isn’t even looking at him, he’s staring somewhere down by his feet, and he looks crestfallen, biting on his lower lip and and blinking too many times. 

 

“Hey - hyung, Minseok is an asshole, and it has no correlation to our first date. It’s still great, and you have every right to be angry because I think you’re a good judge of character.” He takes a breath, tries not to focus on how Minho’s looking at him and instead at the words he wants to say. “But do you feel better? Do you - do you wanna go back home or… go to another ride?” 

 

“I - I’d love to,” Minho says after a pause, and then there’s a tentative smile growing at the corner of his lips and Jisung can finally look at him properly. 

 

“Let’s go!” Jisung exclaims, swinging their hands cheerfully, “I’ll take you on the best date you’ve ever had, hyung!” 

 

Minho can’t help but smile. 

 

So they set off around the amusement park, walking past carousels, several water rides and from afar screams could be heard from a truly terrifying revolving attraction. They both agree not to go on that, and the rollercoaster. But they  _ do  _ go on the swinging boat and spend too much time in the photobooths, then get far too competitive at bumper cars, hot streak rising in them. 

 

It’s much later, exhausted but exhilarated that they stumble towards the food stalls, eager to get something to eat. They get some snacks to share, but Jisung insists they get some of the luridly pink candy floss from the shadiest looking candy floss stall. The floss seems to glow in the falling darkness, bright pink spinning from nothing into the biggest cloud Minho has ever witnessed.

 

“Eating candy floss is part of the amusement park, experience, Minho-hyung!” Jisung insists heatedly, elbowing Minho away to pay for said candy floss. The thing is bigger than their heads, the pink promising deliciousness with the way it shines intermittently with the street lamps. It is far too sweet, as expected. And  _ sticky _ .

 

It gets everywhere, on their teeth, on their clothes, in Jisung’s hair. Minho reaches over to pick it out, not noticing how still Jisung goes. 

 

“You have pink candy floss in your hair,” Minho says, sighing, “How did you even get that there?” 

 

“Have I told you I accidentally dyed my hair pink before, hyung?"

 

"This is our first date so no, but by all means go ahead."

 

They wander around the game stalls as Jisung chatters about how he nearly got conned into getting his hair dyed pink, peeking at the stalls and their prizes, the crowd having thinned out significantly. Minho is incredibly hyper-aware of how close they are, how their hands keep brushing against each others as they walk, how Jisung leans into him when they’re squeezing past another couple. 

 

How they look very much like a  _ couple _ , as Minho catches their reflection in a passing game stall. Flushed and clothes rustled from how much running and moving they did, and some of the pink floss is still stuck in Jisung’s hair, shining pink in the dark brown. 

 

He’s mesmerised. So mesmerised that he doesn’t even notice where they’re going. 

 

“Oh… the ferris wheel is under maintenance,” Jisung says, reading a notice tacked up by the ferris wheel, “Looks like we can’t go on it.” He frowns at the noticeboard for a while, cheeks scrunched up, and Minho is overwhelmed by the sheer want to pinch his cheeks. 

 

While Minho battled with that, Jisung came to a conclusion, “Hyung this means we need to come again! This is fate - every amusement park date needs to go on the ferris wheel, so we have to come again.”

 

“That’s a promise?” Minho asks, laughing.

 

“Yes,” Jisung says, with very much conviction, and a warm rush fills Minho’s chest. 

 

There’s nothing much left for them to do except mull around now, finishing the remainder of their snacks as night falls slowly, languidly even, like time slows down just for them, like they can spend their minutes leisurely with no end contracted. It’s a half hour later when they take the late bus back, Minho’s head shaking against the window of the bus as he looks at Jisung chatting fondly. 

 

_ Is it possible to become so attached to someone in a day _ ? The thought passes through Minho, and the same uncertainty rises in his chest, that he’ll trust too fast, fall too fast, that he’s taking it further than it seems. Yet, as he watches Jisung ask him if he saw how their candy floss was spun, innocence sparkling in his eyes and joy radiating off him, he thinks that maybe he’ll be okay. 

 

“Hyung, I’ll call you soon?” Jisung asks as they get down at the bus stop, the redness of it sparkling off the street lamps, and it feels odd to be standing here at nine in the night.

 

“Su - Sure,” Minho says, a little surprised.

 

“What, you didn’t think I’d want to call you?” Jisung asks, a little laughter edging his words, “I - I really like you,” He admits bashfully, “And it’s been such a nice date. If - If you want, maybe we can go on another one?” 

 

For a moment, Minho can’t believe it. Can’t believe that he has a chance at happiness in this unexpected turn, can’t believe that someone can make him so fond in such a short span of time, can’t believe that a blessing has knocked on his door and said  _ after you _ . Under the quietly cool night sky, Jisung’s shy smile dazzles him and without knowing it, he’s beaming back just as brightly. 

 

“Yeah! I - I really liked the date… And you,” Minho says, before he can swallow the words back, “And thank you for everything.”

 

Jisung smiles. It’s a smile that Minho has never seen Minseok direct at him before. It’s soft and genuine and it enhances the fullness of his cheeks, crinkles the corner of his eyes and scrunches his nose. 

 

The seed of fondness starts blooming. 

 

“I’m going this way, I’ll see you soon for another date!” Jisung says, reaching over and squeezing Minho’s hand affectionately, then they take their separate ways, with Jisung waving enthusiastically as he jogs down the street, his shadow playing in the lights. 

 

Minho goes back feeling happy and light - he doesn't think he's been to a date that made him feel this way. Most of them ended awkwardly, with no promise of a second time, bar the one time he got into a relationship, but he doesn’t like to think of those times. But Jisung had explicitly promised that there would be a second date, and the date itself today was by far one of the best ones he’d ever been. Admittedly his standards are low, but it was amazing, and he’s so excited to see where they go.

 

He’s so happy that he wanders into his apartment with a smile plastered over his face, and Chan greets him a little amusedly. 

 

“So, care to tell me what happened?” Chan asks as Minho shrugs his jacket off, “You look so happy. Something good happened, huh?” 

 

“Not telling you, hyung,” Minho says with a slight air of stubbornness, “You never told me what you and Woojin-hyung are, so you get nothing from my date today.” He sticks his tongue out childishly as Chan splutters incomprehensibly. Lies, all of them, in Minho’s opinion. 

 

"But seriously - you look happy," Chan says after he stops spluttering, "Whoever they are - I hope they make you as happy as you are now for a long time." 

  
"Me too, hyung," Minho says into the silence of their apartment, and his phone vibrates in his hand, "I really hope so." The number he still hasn’t saved lights up his screen again, a simple  _ good night hyung! _ Followed by a bunch of hearts and emojis tells him it really is Jisung, and he really texted. 

  
And so his first date with Jisung ends like that - high and happy, and all he remembers is the brightness of the pink candy floss against the sheen of Jisung’s chestnut hair, his eyes warm with happiness and Minho’s cheeks are aching with how long and hard he’s been smiling. The rides spin mid-air and the wind blows through their hair and whips tears into their eyes and red into their cheeks. The bustle of the crowd is incomparable to their laughter as they make their way to numerous rides, getting giddier with each one.

  
“I’m really happy, hyung,” Minho says, a sudden confession in a whisper’s tone as he replies to Jisung’s message, “I really am.”

 

There is pink candy floss running through his hair, and it shines in the dark brown. 

 


	2. Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jisung takes Minho somewhere, they somehow have two more dates planned already, and the bus is crowded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: N/A
> 
> it's february and here's your second chapter!! i cant believe its already february what the fuck but anyway to everyone, you've done well until now, let's stick through until the end! this chapter was really nice to write in the sense that i could develop their backgrounds :3 it's still a lot of exposition going on so i hope you guys can wait for a bit until we get to the parts where we explore their relationship in further detail! also i use the word _jagiya_ in this fic, and i will check with my korean friends if it's the right term to use, so if you notice i'm doing anything wrong/not how couples would act, just drop a comment and i would highly appreciate it!
> 
> enjoy reading, and take care of yourselves for the rest of february!!

 

_would you let me call you my world?_

_my sweetheart, my love, my stars, my everything;_

_the road that's in front of us is still long,_

_but with you, forever feels like a moment._

 

* * *

 

Jisung takes him on another date, like he had promised. And then another one. And one more. And more, and more, and more, until Minho can’t remember how many dates they’ve been on, but he still knows that this is their ninth date and that he’s only known Jisung for three months. Jisung claims they’ve been on more dates than nine, counting the small coffee meet-ups they have on weekdays as dates, and names a number that Minho can’t quite believe. Yet, at the same time, he believes that number, believes that Jisung had counted every one of them like he does himself and they’re both as heavily invested into this relationship as each other.

 

Still, Minho doesn’t quite know where they stand. Something more than friends? Boyfriends? Dating? He hasn’t quite plucked up the nerve to ask Jisung yet, but he’s happy and fond of where they’ve come. Official titles, labels - they can wait, they have time.

 

The air smells sweet as Minho leans on the wall outside his apartment complex, waiting for Jisung to come pick him up. Craning his neck, he thinks it’s the new coffee shop that had opened just a few days ago, and makes a mental note to take Jisung there to try their pastries. It just so happens that as he cranes his neck to look at the coffee shop, Jisung draws into his line of vision and grins as he catches sight of Minho.

 

“What, looking for me, hyung?” Jisung teases as he arrives at Minho’s side with light footsteps, “Can’t wait to see me?”

 

“Whatever,” Minho says, willing for his blush to go away. Jisung had gotten awfully bold over the past few months, starting to flirt with him and tease him a lot more, and Minho isn’t used to someone being as forward as this, isn’t used to someone giving him sincere compliments every other hour. It makes him blush and panic slightly every time, and Jisung had told him he found it adorable. “There’s a new coffee shop down the street, and I was looking at it. Do you wanna go there one day, instead of you know - the usual.”

 

Now it’s Jisung’s turn to fumble with his words, not expecting Minho to directly ask him out on another date when they’re already on one and they had arranged a double date with Chan and his mystery boyfriend later in the week. (actually, how many dates are they going on in this month alone? jisung doesn’t quite know, but the more time he gets to spend with Minho, the better, and he’s definitely not complaining.)

 

“Ah - sure, of course - whenever you want, hyung.”

 

“Jisungie, are you blushing?”

 

“No!” Jisung sticks his tongue out at Minho in a childish fit, and they both burst out laughing, happy from being around each other. Starting to lead Minho across the street, Jisung adds, “Also, the bus is supposed to be here in a little bit, let’s go wait, yeah?”

 

Minho pouts a little as he takes Jisung’s hand like it’s second nature, not even a hesitant thought coming to mind. “Are you still not going to tell me where are we going? You’ve kept it a secret from me for days now, what are you doing?”

 

“Be patient, hyungie,” Jisung says, looking at the board where the times of when the buses arrive are displayed, “You’ll find out soon enough. It’s - It’s nothing special, I just hope you won’t find it boring,” Jisung says in a rush, like he isn’t sure if what he’s planned is enough.

 

“Hey, I can hear you fretting,” Minho teases lightly, “Besides, you could take me to watch paint dry for four hours and I’d be happy because I’m watching it with you.”

 

“You - You can’t just _say_ things like that,” Jisung says, rubbing the back of his neck and mumbling his words, looking at the ground instead of anywhere near Minho. But he likes it, likes it when Minho says things like that, sincerity in his tone and eyes sparkling and hand squeezing his a little tighter. He likes it because Minho feels comfortable enough to say these things to him, trusts him enough to tell him that the time they spend together is precious.

 

“I just did,” Minho says, bratty streak shining through, and Jisung’s fondness for him is overruled slightly by indignation.

 

Unfortunately for him though (and fortunately for Minho), the bus arrives just that very moment, and they’re both distracted by finding their cards and swiping it as they clamber aboard, slipping into the crowded throng of the bus. They find a small space to squeeze together near the middle of the bus, and they’re standing chest to chest, holding onto the poles and overhead straphangers.

 

Standing like this, they’re closer than they’ve ever been, and Minho can’t help his eyes, drawn to Jisung’s cheeks and the way he blinks so fast, and his lips and how soft they look - Minho refuses to go down that train of thought. Even so, the bus jerks to a screeching stop, much to the complaint of the passengers, but nothing comes out of Minho’s mouth because Jisung had stumbled against him and now they’re actually pressed chest to chest, and their faces are close, closer, _too_ close.

 

“So - Sorry,” Jisung says a little embarrassedly, trying to find his footing again, but Minho can feel his breath against his own lips and his brain is short circuiting.

 

“It’s - It’s fine,” Minho squeaks out, mouth not cooperating at all, and as the bus starts to move again, it’s him that loses his balance this time. Somehow in the midst of the movement, Jisung’s hands ends up on either sides of his waist and they’re pressed together again, staring into each other’s eyes and Minho’s mouth has just missed Jisung’s, lips a breath away from the corner of Jisung’s mouth.

 

There’s something Minho wants to say - “Sorry,” - something he wants to do - move away and put distance between them - but his brain _is not working at all_ and Jisung’s eyes are bright, bright, bright and there’s red rising on his cheeks and his own face feels so hot and his eyes naturally slide down to look at Jisung’s mouth and he can feel Jisung angling his face, coming closer and he’s pretty sure that that’s Jisung’s breath he feels on his lips and his heart is beating so fast -

 

“Sorry, coming through,” Someone murmurs from behind them, and they’re jostled apart suddenly, moving to try and make space for the person to move towards the front.

 

Since when did he close his eyes? Minho forces his eyelids open as he shuffles awkwardly around Jisung, twisting to let the person pass them. More people move along, and there’s more than a bit of breathing space and Minho feels obliged to move back, yet Jisung’s hands are still on his waist and it’s not like he can go anywhere.

 

“Jisungie -”

 

“Minho-hyung -”

 

They stare at each other, then start laughing, the absurdity of what just happened now funny.

 

“You first -”

 

“Go first -”

 

“No, you,” Minho says, insisting through his laughter, and he’s shaking, laughing so hard he leans into Jisung anyway, head resting on Jisung’s shoulder.

 

“Okay,” Jisung says, voice high and peppered with giggles, and then Minho feels him shift, trying to position himself to accommodate Minho. Then all of a sudden - Jisung’s mouth is pressed against the junction of his jaw and his neck in a sweet kiss and the breath is torn out of Minho’s chest. “There,” Jisung says, satisfied, his arms now wrapped around Minho’s waist and his breath fans against Minho’s neck.

 

For the third time in the span of ten minutes, Minho’s brain shuts down again, and he’s pretty sure his mouth has disconnected from all coherent thought, a string of noises and mumbles leaving his mouth.

 

“Hmm?” Jisung has the nerve to ask, and Minho comes back to enough sense to hit Jisung’s arm playfully.

 

“You just - you just -” Minho can’t quite say it out loud, still feeling shy and he can’t meet Jisung’s gaze, staring somewhere at Jisung’s shoulder, “- You - um -”

 

“Kissed you,” Jisung says easily.

 

“Yeah,” Minho squeaks, “That.” Then before his courage can betray him, he looks up and kisses the corner of Jisung’s mouth, lips pressed just long enough to feel Jisung’s mouth turn up in a surprised smile. “There,” He says slowly, imitating what Jisung said.

 

And Minho will always remember the look on Jisung’s face. Shock, but then rapid delight and a hint of shyness thrown in there, how his eyes crinkle and his cheeks become fuller with the force of his smile, and how he laughs, high and happy and Minho has never known it was possible to be so happy because of someone else’s happiness.

 

They spend the next twenty minutes of the ride lost in each other’s eyes, until Jisung pulls them off at one stop at the very last minute, their jackets almost caught as the buses close and they’re torn at the edges with laughter.

 

“This way,” Jisung says, pulling Minho along, and they’re half-running and half-walking, hands clutched tightly together under the deep blue of the sky. The road that Jisung pulls him along leads them towards the local university, and it’s all a blur to Minho. He’s lost in the memories of this university where he was just two years ago, remembers walking onto this campus fearfully when he first started, remembers how it eventually grew to be his home, remembers how he had cried when he had to leave. He doesn’t quite register that Jisung has gotten a visitor’s pass for him and he’s walking to the art department, where he had once lived and breathed but all traces of him are probably wiped out now. The thought of it hurts less than when he had first left.  

 

“Um - this is where I work,” Jisung says a little shyly as they approach the fleet of art studios lining one of the many hallways. “I’m not sure if you’ve been here before? This is the studio I work in and - and I just wanted to show you where I do my work. It - It’s probably not very interesting, we can do something else -”

 

“I’d love to see where you work,” Minho says, smiling warmly and latching around Jisung’s arm, “I don’t think I’ve seen any of your work either. I’m sure it’s amazing!”

 

Jisung looks at him for a while. Just looks at him, like he can’t believe Minho is standing right next to him, warm around his arm and smile as sweet as honey. “Yeah,” He murmurs, “You’re amazing.” He unlocks the door to the studio, deaf to Minho’s smug agreement that yes he is, and walks in. “Welcome,” He says, not without the air of someone introducing their life and blood, “To my studio.”

 

Everything is messy, paints scattered and brushes drying, canvases stacked up and half finished paintings waiting for the last part to be completed; there are completed works hung up on walls and even more rough sketches and ideas dominating almost one whole wall, pencil lines fading with age and piles upon piles of papers hidden behind paint buckets. Even within the mess, there is a certain order to it, and everything’s well taken care of. The paints are stacked up by canvas, the brushes are everywhere but they’re fairly clean and well-loved, there’s a clear progression of ideas that the sketches display, and the completed works all follow a vague theme of what can only be attributed to nostalgia and sentimentality.

 

Minho is in love. Completely on instinct, he draws his camera out of its bag, and he can’t get the words out of his mouth fast enough.

 

“Jisungie - this is - it’s - _amazing_.” He fumbles with a few more words, trying to express how he finds Jisung’s workspace, and the fact that Jisung had thought to bring him to such an important and intimate place. “I - It’s really, really amazing and - thank you. Thank you for bringing me here.”

 

“I wanted to bring you here,” Jisung admits, “You’re as important as me to as painting is, and - and I want you to know.” He’s nervous, fidgeting and running his hand through his hair, like he’s showing a side of him he has never.

 

It isn’t fair how Jisung can steal his breath away like that so easily, like it’s nothing, and Minho keeps falling, keeps worrying he’ll fall too hard and no one will be there, but Jisung is there to catch him again and again and again and he’s starting to realise that he can fall freely without worry if Jisung is beside him.

 

“You mean everything to me, you know?” Minho says into the calm of the studio, and it doesn’t matter that he’s only known Han Jisung for three months, that three months are barely a fraction of his lifetime, but it’s been one of the brighter fractions of his life that he will never forget. Wherever they go, he will never forget how happy Jisung made him. “Everything,” He says, repeats, and it feels like the only two of them in the whole world, just Jisung looking at him with soft eyes and a softer smile and surrounded by a myriad of colours that Jisung’s hand had wrought.

 

Jisung starts pointing out his completed works, explains the meanings and relays funny stories of him missing deadlines and oversleeping; all the while, Minho can’t help but take photos of each canvas, in awe of the stories behind them and that Jisung had created all of them.

 

“Hyung, those are unfinished, they’re not even nice!” Jisung whines as Minho snaps several photos of blank canvases etched with pencil lines and others that had splashes of colour on them, hovering between starting and completion. “These are all not completed, they’re not nice to look at and they’re so messy - _hyung_!”

 

Minho just laughs and ruffles Jisung’s hair. “It’s the unfinished work that holds all the magic, Sungie, and I see magic everywhere in here. Here, look, don’t these look nice?”

 

“... You make them look nice.”

 

“No, it’s your work.”

 

“Taking photos is a lot of hard work too! I don’t know shit about lighting, or angles, or like _anything_ about professional photography but the way I see you take photos, it’s… it’s like you put your heart and soul into taking each shot.” It’s true that he had known nothing whatsoever about photography before meeting Minho, but watching the other man had made him want to know more, want to make sure he knew what Minho was talking about, could be able to ask questions and engage in conversation about what Minho loved to death.

 

Minho pauses, surprised at Jisung’s sudden mini-rant. He’s touched, touched that Jisung had taken time to learn about what he loves when he didn’t need to, and it just makes him all the fonder. “Um - these are… some of the photos I used at past exhibitions when I was a student here,” He says, fishing his phone out and showing Jisung, “My theme was ‘modern’ and honestly I didn’t know what to do with that.”

 

“But you did so well!” Jisung exclaims, staring wide-eyed at the photos, “This is amazing - modern dancers, the city skyline, contemporary art - the way you took them is just - it’s just breathtaking.”

 

Minho leaves Jisung to gawk at his photos and wanders around the studio, taking photos of absolutely everything, including Jisung. “Say cheese,” He says, and Jisung looks up, startled.

 

Minho takes several photos of Jisung, from his startled expressions to his shy ones then the indignant, fiery ones that means his shots become blurry as he runs away from Jisung. He can’t help himself but take more photos, enamoured by the way Jisung had painted his work, and slowly, his camera fills with a collage of the sea, the mountains, liminal spaces and Jisung himself.

 

All the while, Jisung had been half-heartedly working on his latest project, but he had been endlessly distracted by the quiet _snaps_ of Minho’s camera and instead dabbed random splashes of paint on Minho’s arm in an attempt to get him to stop. It is to no avail. Minho’s still taking photos of his studio, and by the time he’s done, he sits down next to Jisung and is preoccupied with looking through the photos, unaware that Jisung’s random dabbing of paint on him has evolved into a mass of flowers and leaves winding around his arm.

 

Jisung doesn’t even seem to realise that, just focuses on painting a lily on minho’s arms, joining the several other lilies and sunflowers dotting his arm, and when Minho finally looks up from his camera, his breath is stolen once again.

 

His left arm is dotted with leaves of light and dark green varieties, and white lilies are nestled into them, with bright sunflowers nearer his elbow, and Jisung is bent over his arm, bangs brushing against his skin and the quick flits of the paintbrush on his skin doesn’t feel unfamiliar. In fact, it feels oddly calming, and Minho just sits there, watching Jisung ink the paint on his skin. The way Jisung switches between colours and presses the colour onto his skin seems so familiar, and Minho is ready to fall asleep right there and then, on an uncomfortable chair but comforted by the brushes on his skin and Jisung by his side. Then -

 

“Oh - oh _shit_ \- hyung - oh my god - I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to start painting your arm.”

 

“No, Jisung -”

 

“Wait, um, I don’t know if I still have paint thinner or -”

 

“Jisung, this is beautiful,” Minho says before Jisung can work himself up even more, “This is beautiful. You didn’t do anything wrong, and I love it.”

 

“You - Are you sure?” Jisung asks hesitantly, paintbrush still hovering over the surface of Minho’s arm.

 

“Yes,” Minho says, nodding so hard his bangs are flopping into his eyes, “I love them, Sungie.” It’s like a sign of how comfortable Jisung feels with him around, that he had let his guard down and naturally started painting on his skin without a second thought. The flowers glisten under the studio lights and it’s the best accidental gift Minho has ever received.

 

“If you’re sure,” Jisung says quietly, a small smile edging his lips upwards.

 

Minho is having none of it. Surging forward and half-standing, he leans over and presses another kiss to Jisung’s cheek. “It’s beautiful, and I love it.”

 

Once again, Jisung’s face changes, from shocked to happy and the same teaspoonful of shyness that still lingers even after all this time, and then a smile - a huge one, one that bunches his cheeks up and crinkles his eyes and makes him the embodiment of sunshine itself - unfurls over his face and Minho’s smiling too, just by looking at Jisung.

 

“Take a picture for me?” Minho implores, handing Jisung his camera, “Please? This is too beautiful just to let it go, please take a picture.”

 

“It feels weird taking photos of my own work,” Jisung grumbles, but obliges anyway, snapping a few shots of Minho’s arm in different angles as per Minho’s directions before they’re looking at the photos together.

 

“Thank you,” Minho says happily, “Thank you for bringing me here.” And he is truly, truly happy. It’s the kind of happiness he always wants, one that is tainted with fear or blackened by the feeling that his happiness is a front for sadness later. It’s a kind of happiness that he always remember, light and airy and like everything is right with the world and he will be okay, he will heal.

 

“No, thank _you_ , hyung,” Jisung says, taking Minho’s hand, their fingers interlocking together, “You appreciated my stuff. You liked just - just doing this, even if it’s nothing much.” There’s a pause, then Jisung admits, “I brought someone else to see my work once and they didn’t like it much. They just looked around for a bit before asking when we could leave, so I never really showed anyone my studio after that… Until - Until you, hyung.”

 

The gravity of those implications makes Minho’s heart hurts. “No one should have what they love treated lightly,” Minho says, giving Jisung’s hand a reasurring squeeze, “You love painting and art and anyone can see that, and people who don’t appreciate what you do aren’t worth knowing.”

 

“I... took a while to realise that.”

 

“I mean - It’s okay to like, realise something slowly - it’s just… Once we know we’re in something that’s not good for us we should leave, even if it means hurting others.”

 

At that, Jisung turns to him, really looks at him, gaze fierce and loving all at the same time, like Minho holds all the answers in the universe and he had hung all the stars in the sky. “Thank you,” He murmurs, softly, quietly, “Thank you, hyung.”

 

There’s a buzz thats growing louder in Minho’s ears, and his tongue is dry and his throat is sticky. Why? “You’re welcome, Sungie.” He hesitates, then adds, “You’re welcome, _jagiya_.” The words unstick his throat and he’s hardly used them before but it feels right, fits Jisung right, the words sweet and affectionate and is as every bit as loving as Jisung is.  

 

And Minho will always remember the expression on Jisung’s face. Surprise. Pure, utter surprise, marked with happiness because of what it implies, and also a heaviness, seriousness behind the light-heartedness that lets Minho know Jisung is as serious about this as he is. Sees it in the way Jisung shifts closer, in the way his smile this time is smaller but just as genuine, in the way Jisung brings his hand up and kisses it, still looking at Minho, always.

 

“Thank you, hyungie,” Jisung says, lips against the back of his hand, and Minho can feel every word being said against his skin.

 

“Ri - Right,” Minho says, stumbling over his words and he’s pretty sure his cheeks are red hot, but he can’t look away from Jisung, as mesmerised as he was the first time he met him.

 

They spend a whole afternoon in Jisung’s studio, and Minho is parked there, asking question after question about acrylics and watercolours and canvases and paint brushes and _is there anything you need_? Jisung remarks offhandedly that he needs new acrylic paints, rifling through his colours and naming some that are running out. It’s only when he realises that Minho has taken down the names of the paints that he gets a feeling Minho is about to get him something.

 

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Minho denies, shoving his phone in his backpocket, “You don’t know what I’m talking about.”

 

“I’m not afraid to get your phone, hyung,” Jisung warns.

 

“Yeah? You think I’m scared of you taking my phone?”

 

“And I want to know whether you’re going to buy me the paints! They’re expensive and you have better things to buy - like that camera lense you’re saving up for right?”

 

It is not the time to gawk over the fact that Jisung had remembered something he said in passing several weeks back. “I never _said_ I was gonna buy you anything,” Minho points out, with something like a smug air around him.

 

Jisung narrows his eyes. “So if I see you buying paints for me I will throw them out the window, _capisce_?”

 

“Done,” Minho agrees, shaking on it enthusiastically. He just has to ask someone else to buy the paints using his money and give it to Jisung.

 

They bicker a bit more about what Jisung needs more - the paints that he’s running out from or paintbrushes he’s lusting after even though he’s got perfectly functional ones. (minho will go back to search the prices and balk. there is no way he’s getting the paintbrushes, no matter how fond he is of jisung. no way.) In the end, they walk out of the studio near sunset, with Minho’s arm decorated with a beautiful winding trail of leaves and flowers and a bunch of paint names he thinks makes absolutely no sense in his phone.

 

Returning the visitor’s pass, Jisung waits for him to finish signing out with a little bated anticipation. Once he’s finally done with the finicky process of remembering what date it is and what time it is, Minho turns to Jisung, expecting that they would be going home.

 

“Hey, Minho-hyung -”

 

“Hey, _jagiya_.”

 

“I - hyung! I just - do you wanna go grab dinner together? Before we go back? I mean, it’s fine if you don’t want to.”

 

“I’d love to,” Minho says warmly, and he’s more than delighted by the fact that he has found something that can make Jisung flustered.

 

Getting dinner together, is in fact, just a plot for Jisung to pay for both of them and anticipate the fact that Minho would actually buy paints for him. It’s very far-fetched, far-flung thinking, but he _knows_ Minho, being as stubborn as he is, would make sure the paints find their way to him, so he treats Minho to dinner now, as recompense for the future.

 

It’s just fast food, but they have too much fun eating it, with Minho swabbing ketchup at Jisung’s face, and they keep taking sips from the wrong drink. Minho makes several attempts to feed Jisung before swerving away and eating it himself, delighting at the betrayed look on Jisungs face and laughing when Jisung manages to swipe some ketchup on his nose.

 

“Revenge,” Jisung says, pouting slightly.

 

“All’s fair in love and war,” Minho says.

 

Silence ensues, but it isn’t awkward, or cold. It’s comfortable, just basking in the quiet of the noisy fast food restaurant, enjoying what time they have left together for today. They finish, and the bus ride back is relatively calm, Jisung nodding off and falling asleep on Minho’s shoulder, lulled by fatigue and the motion of the bus. For Minho, it seemed strange to think that he had started the day having never even thought of kissing Jisung, and today he had kissed him twice (though admittedly, not on the mouth yet, and minho doesn’t want to think about that because it makes him flustered).

 

Minho feels his heart wrench when he has to wake up Jisung, who looks entirely too peaceful and too comfortable.

 

“What - oh - are we here?” Jisung asks in a sweet voice, hair endearingly mussed and stretching as he stands up.

 

It takes everything in Minho not to melt right there and then.

 

“So - I’ll see you on Wednesday, then?” Minho asks as they step off the bus.

 

“Yep,” Jisung chirps, as bright as the setting sun now that he’s awake again, “Double date with Channie-hyung and his mysterious suitor.”

 

“I bet you it’s Woojin-hyung,” Minho says conspiratorially, “There’s something going on between them and I _know_ it.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Oh yeah. I’ll bet you an ice cream it’s Woojinnie-hyung.”

 

“... Bet taken.”

 

Then they part, walking their separate ways, their goodbyes echoed into the air and lingering in their hearts. Minho walks back with a little bounce in his step, eyes glued to the temporary tattoo on his arm, and he can’t believe Jisung actually painted this, much less painted it on him. The sunflowers seem to glow even brighter in the wake of the sun, and the lilies reflect golden and silver, luminescent and surrounded by dark clutches of vibrant leaves.

 

Even Chan exclaims over their beauty when he arrives home.

 

“These are beautiful! Did Jisung draw that on you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You guys are perfect for each other,” Chan says, a little sigh punctuating his tone, then it turns a little steely, “And don’t think I’ve forgiven you for not telling me you’re going out with Jisung. I can’t believe you’re going out with one of my closest friends and neither of you told me.”

 

“Well, you told neither of us who your boyfriend is, so it’s a fair deal,” Minho says, making a face at Chan.

 

“You’re so bratty,” Chan huffs, “You’ll see him on Wednesday, so park your ass and _wait_.”

 

So he does.

 

It’s four days later that Minho and Chan are waiting outside the new coffeeshop for Jisung and whoever Chan’s mysterious date might be, and Chan’s wrinkling his nose at Minho, who seems to be utterly uncaring of how Chan is looking at him.

 

Jsisung arrives first, with a loud, “Hi, I’m here!” to announce his presence. Almost immediately, Jisung recognises the flowers and leaves inked on MInho’s arm, and he wonders if he’s hallucinating because surely the paint must have washed after so many days.

 

“He tried his best not to wash that part of his arm,” Chan informs him wryly, “You should have seen him panicking when he got some water on it and the paint started to run. He likes the painting so much, Jisungie - maybe you should just keep drawing on him so he always a piece of you or something cheesy like that.”

 

“That’s so cheesy,” Minho complains, but he looks flustered.

 

“Would you like it, though?” Jisung asks, flattered that Minho had tried to keep the paint on his arm as long as he practicall could. “Would you like it if I painted on you? I mean, you’re the first and last person I’ll ever do that for, but… If you like it…”

 

Minho fumbles with his words, trying to find something that won’t make him seem completely whipped for Jisung or enamoured with the idea. “I - I would love it,” He finally says, deciding to give no damns at all, “I think it’d be so cool, and I could just tell people that you drew these paintings and make them go support you at your year-end exhibition!”

 

Jisung’s shoulders hunch up as he laughs, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “I could, yeah - and  - and there are a lot of colours that would look nice on your skin, hyung. I - I may have been thinking about this too.”

 

Minho is struck speechless, and has a feeling Jisung will continue to do this to him for as long as they’re together. He’s about to answer - something, anything, something that could express how precious Jisung was - when Chan calls out to someone.

 

“Hey - Hey, baby, I’m over here.”

 

A figure draws into clearer and clearer view, and Minho lets out a whoop, a cheer, pumping his fist into the air, narrowly missing hitting Jisung and Jisung turns to look at Chan wide-eyed.

 

“Hi, Channie.”

 

“Guys,” Chan begins, “This is my boyfriend, and you already know him.”

 

“I _told you_ ,” Minho says triumphantly, “It’s Woojin-hyung.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because i am very bad at asking for help, i took a few days off tumblr to clear my mind which also meant ive kinda isolated myself from my support system (honestly i consider my mutuals like my family if you will please) but thank god i have a friend who annoyed me into watching all sorts of videos and i feel so much better ;~; 
> 
> i apologise to anyone who's dmed/asked me anything and i havent answered T^T i needed some time to go off and it was a very fast decision, it wasnt influenced by anyone. its just sometimes i need to get better and that means going off for a while, even though tumblr is my happy place. there are elements of it that has become toxic and i hate that ive conditioned myself into thinking certain things mean certain things, but i'll be much better soon :D
> 
> also im planning a magic!au based off broken compass, but i dont think it'll be up for a long, long time yet unfortunately T.T i might post snippets but we'll see where that goes~ i'll also try to have get lost pt 2 up by the end of this month because,,,, its been absolutely ages i do apologise. i have to add that the bus scene where they nearly kiss was not planned at all, but it was so nice to write and i thought id tease you guys so..... have this! who knows when they'll get together or actually kiss ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ and appreciate the fluff while you have it <3 so i look forward to seeing you guys next month! what colour do you think we'll have next month?


	3. Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They make a promise under the stars, in the dark, and they seal it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: N/A
> 
> ?????? i cant believe its march??? one day im gonna look back at this every note i have is just me going 'what the fuck do you mean its a new month' but yes heLLO IT IS MARCH and how is everyone? i hope the month has been treating you well, and remember to take care of yourself! drink plenty of water, eat and sleep decently~~ 
> 
> i feel like you guys will like this chapter so appreciate it while you can :D my (tumblr) moms have influenced me sooooooo enjoy the fluff while you will!! enjoy reading, as always <3

 

_you are my favourite everything,_

_and firsts mean nothing but lasts do,_

_So i promise you, from now until the end,_

_i’ll stay with you as yours_

 

* * *

 

(minho doesn’t think jisung knows that he’s actually sunshine in human form. all it takes to lift minho’s increasingly bad mood is a short, ten minute phone call from jisung, who sounds suspiciously bright. “just survive the next few hours, minho,” jisung says, and the lack of honorific doesn’t even bother minho, “and then you can come back. just the next few hours, hyung, then you can come back and not meet anyone for the next month. and also, remember to eat, hyungie!” it’s strange how easily jisung lifts his mood, how that, with jisung’s words revolving around his head, he can steel himself and start working again. whatever it is that he has with jisung - minho needs to protect this, needs to treasure it and make sure he doesn’t let it pass by, never, never.)

 

Minho is exhausted. Exhausted from having to deal with an unusually fussy client, and the fact that his camera was being faulty, like it needed to be repaired or replaced - not good. Definitely not good, because he doesn’t have enough money to replace a whole camera, and his camera had been working fine just days prior to the photoshoot today. The studio is empty bar from him picking up the pieces and stowing the lights away, and the grim note he had jotted down in his schedule reminded him that he had to deal with the same client again next week for another magazine photoshoot.

 

It takes him a while to remember why he wanted to pursue photography in the first place. (a big _fuck you_ to his parents, that’s what, because Lee Minho lives and breathes off spite.)

 

It’s past dinner by the time he’s packed everything up and is ready to go home, and he wants nothing more than to fall into his bed and pass out for the next 12 hours. Maybe he’d hibernate and never deal with annoying clients ever again. Either way, his dream is postponed for a half hour, stuck in an unusual traffic jam because the road was being re-tarred.

 

And, like the good, law-obeying citizen he is, he doesn’t check his phone, which is why he misses the three missed calls and several messages from Jisung, and a voicemail from Chan that sounds like Chan is about to tear out into the streets and find him. Minho slots his car into the parking lot and decides to tackle Chan first.

 

“Hyung, I’m home, don’t worry, I got stuck in the traffic jam,” He says as soon as the phone picks up, “Are you home now? You don’t need to worry I -”

 

“ _Chan_ ? _Minho’s safe, he’s home, you don’t need to go back_ ,” Woojin’s voice floats over on the phone and Minho wrinkles his nose at their domesticity.

 

“You guys are disgustingly sappy,” Minho complains, “You’re already practically married, answering the phone for each other like this.”

 

“ _Leave us alone_ ,” Chan grumbles, having taken his phone from Woojin, but there isn’t a trace of irritation or anger in his voice, “ _And I’m glad you’re back safe. You usually call me by now whining about the lack of food in the house and you didn’t, so I thought something happened to you_.”

 

“I can take care of myself, hyung,” Minho says, but his heart warms, knowing that Chan cares so much about him, “You don’t need to worry.”

 

“ _You’re important to me, of course I have to worry_ ,” Chan says, sounding offended, “ _Who’s gonna pay the rent if you get into trouble_ ?” Chan waits until Minho finishes spluttering then adds, almost laughing, “ _I’m kidding, Minho-yah. I care about you because I love you, okay? Now go up and get some rest, you’re probably tired from the photoshoot all day_.”

 

“Alright, alright,” Minho says a little petulantly, “I love you too, hyung. Now go back and suck faces with Woojin-hyung or whatever it is that you guys do.”

 

All Chan manages to get out is, “ _Rude_ ,” Before Minho has already hung up and swipes over, opening his chat with Jisung, eyes scanning over the texts he’s received.

 

[18:02] Hyungie, what time are you going back to your apartment?

 

[18:17] _Missed call_

 

[18:33] Never mind, you suck. Chan-hyung said you’ll be back most likely after dinner?

 

[18:50] I joined Chan-hyung watching Ponyo why’s he watching Ponyo when he’s supposed to meet up with Woojin-hyung in 10 minutes

 

[19:15] Hyung, he left :(( I’m alone now

 

[19:16] Hyunggg come back faster I have a surprise for you

 

[19:17] And I wanna watch Ponyo with you, come on!!!!

 

[20:01] _Missed call_

 

[20: 20] I finished watching Ponyo waiting for you

 

[20:56] Hyung, the roads are being re-tarred, you’re gonna come back really late aren’t you

 

[21:14] Hyung, are you okay? I’m worried

 

[21:15] _Missed call_

 

[21:17] Text me when you’re back, hyung, I’m sorry if I’m bothering you

 

Frowning at the last message, Minho’s about to type a response back when there’s a light tap on his car window and he, to put it lightly, _freaks the fuck out_ , having been so entirely engrossed reading Jisung’s messages. He jerks away from the window, only held back by his seatbelt and he stares out the window with wide eyes, heart beating too frantically. Rolling the window down, he frowns sharply and strikes a soft punch against the person’s arm.

 

“Don’t scare me like that!”

 

Jisung just smiles sheepishly and takes Minho’s hand in his. “Sorry. I was getting worried so I decided to come down and saw your car. You got my messages?”

 

“Yeah. And - you’re not being bothersome. I - I like it. That someone bothers to check on me.” He looks up at Jisung for a while, smiling then asks, “Did you have fun watching Ponyo? I’ll be up in a few minutes.” He’s already exhausted, and the thought of bringing all his props back up to his apartment makes him want to just drop everything down and to pass out, like his dream wants to, but Minho is a Responsible Adult.

 

“I’ll help you, hyung,” Jisung chirps, moving to the backdoor of the car and opening it, beginning to sift through the multitude of trash Minho keeps in his car, “You can’t carry all this by yourself.”

 

“I managed at the studio,” Minho grumbles.

 

“Yeah, but I’m here, so I’ll help you. What am I supposed to do, then?”

 

“Stand there and stay away from all the pointy things so I know you’re safe,” Minho says cheekily. He accepts Jisung’s help anyway, planting a kiss on his cheek before locking his car. All the way upstairs, he lets Jisung chatter about the movie and his day, letting himself relax as Jisung talked over him, voice soothing in ways Minho never thought possible.

 

Minho fumbles with his key for more than a few moments before finally letting them into the apartment - Jisung had been let in by Chan, and effectively locked himself out when he went to wait for Minho downstairs - and gesturing for Jisung to dump all his stuff in his home studio.

 

“Thank you,” Minho says, sighing and pressing a hand to his forehead, “Now all that’s left to do is edit the photos and send whatever can be salvaged to the company.” He smiles up at Jisung, who’s already looking at up, something disguised in his eyes, “What do you wanna do now, Jisung? I’ve made you wait for so long, let’s spend time together now, yeah?”

 

Jisung nods, looking like he’s battling on saying something. “Hyung,” He starts slowly, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.

 

He’s nervous, Minho realises, watching Jisung stumble over his words, _but what for_?

 

“You remember I said I had a surprise for you, right?” Jisung takes a breath, reaching to grasp Minho’s hands, “Well, I planned to take you for a picnic, but I didn’t know you’d come back so late but I think we can still go have a picnic if you want - and you haven’t had dinner but I know you’re tired and so - I mean, do - do you wanna go for a picnic?” His voice trails out by the end, ramble coming to a nervous halt, but Minho’s laced their fingers together and there isn’t a trace of fatigue in his voice or expression any longer.

 

“I’d love to,” Minho says, drawing Jisung closer into a hug, “I’d love to. And I could never be tired around you, Sungie.” For a few moments, they just stand there, half shrouded in darkness and pressed warmly against each other, soaking in each other’s presence. _Recharging_ , Jisung had once joked after Minho collapsed into his arms after a week of not seeing each other, _Hyung, you’re like a cat_ . But that one week of not seeing each other had been two months ago, and now Minho has known Jisung for six months - _six months, where did his time go_ \- only six months, but at the same time, so long.

 

And Jisung’s midnight picnic is a sweet surprise for him. “Let’s go,” Jisung mumbles into his shoulder, but he’s still holding on, and Minho laughs, light and airy, bringing sunshine with him just like that.

 

“You’re holding on to me, _jagiya_ ,” Minho says softly, pressing a kiss to Jisung’s forehead, “We can’t go anywhere if you’re holding on to me like this.”

 

“I’ll never let you go,” Jisung says, looking at him now, something odd in his voice, something in his gaze that Minho is sure he’s seen before but can’t quite place.

 

Still, it’s twenty minutes later that they’re leaving the apartment again, a picnic basket heavy in Jisung’s hand. _Let me take it_ , Minho had offered, but Jisung stuck his tongue out at Minho childishly, switching the basket to his other hand so Minho couldn’t take it, knowing full well that Minho was exhausted from the day and really shouldn’t be heaving any sort of stuff around that was heavier than a piece of paper.  

 

The night around them is sweetly velvet, the darkness now settling into onyx, speckled with the lights of the city and the streets, and the air is fresh in a different way from the morning air. It’s night air, neon lights and quiet interspersed with the occasional car passing by; it’s being alone together and silent footsteps on the gravel footpath; it’s basking in each other’s presence and being comfortable with the silence between them.

 

Walking beside Jisung like this, Minho’s led to the nearby park, always open, and it looks different in the time of this night, glowing aloof with the light of the streetlamps, abandoned to nature. But Jisung’s with him, and wherever he goes with Jisung will always be welcoming.

 

“Surprise,” Jisung utters, voice soft, and he takes Minho’s hand in his.

 

“The best,” Minho says, gaze irresistibly drawn to the scroll the diamond-studded sky, all the breath stolen from his chest in a beat. “Thank you,” He says, bringing Jisung’s hand up, pressing a sweet kiss to the back of his hand and lingering, eyes now closed.

 

“Everything for you,” Jisung says, and even though Minho’s eyes aren’t open, he knows Jisung’s gaze is trained on him. It’s just that when he looks up, he isn’t expecting to see this much affection in Jisung’s eyes, like he would give Minho anything and everything if Minho so much as whispered it. He isn’t expecting for Jisung to interlace their fingers together and for him to press a soft kiss to his jaw. He isn’t expecting for Jisung to look into his eyes, brilliant and beautiful and Minho wants to always keep that spark in his eyes and make sure he’s always happy.

 

And abruptly, just like that, Minho identifies the gaze. The same gaze that Jisung had directed at him when they were in the apartment an eternity ago. It’s the gaze that Jisung has when he’s concentrating on drawing, when he’s giving it is his all and is pouring his soul into it. The same gaze is for him, not the first time and will never be the last time, like Minho is his all and everything and - and Minho’s breath is taken away.

 

“Everything,” Minho whispers, because it’s too early to say anything else.

 

Eventually, they draw apart, because they have an age together (even if they don’t it out loud, they do), and Minho’s worried about the weight of the picnic basket in Jisung’s hand. They pick a spot on the grass, and Minho is finally allowed to carry the basket, but only because Jisung’s spreading the blanket out on the grass.

 

“Put it down, hyungie,” Jisung urges, “It’s heavy, you shouldn’t be carrying any heavy stuff -”

 

“You filthy hypocrite,” Minho says, but he’s laughing.

 

“You love me,” Jisung says, now moving to unpack the basket.

 

“I love you, yeah,” Minho says easily, because it’s not a lie.

 

He tries to help Jisung to unpack the basket, but Jisung passes him a juice bottle and tells him to stay put, seeing as he’d been running around the studio the whole day, and it’s time for him to relax. _To be taken care of_ , Jisung says carefully, watching Minho’s reaction out of the corner of his eyes as he brings out a container of _tteokbokki_ and another one full of _jajangmyeon_ . He’s pretty sure there’s ice cream and _bulgogi_ as well, but he doesn’t manage to pay as much attention to the food because Minho looks like there’s emotion welling in his eyes.

 

“Hyung?”

 

“Shut _up_ ,” Minho says, voice sounding like he’s about to cry, “Stop - stop trying to make me cry, I hate you.” It’s just too much, Minho doesn’t say, because Jisung had cared enough to plan all of this, had been patient enough to wait for hours well into the night, had been perceptive enough to pick up on his fatigue and insisted on picking up most of the heavy work - it makes him emotional.

 

Jisung just laughs a little, reaches over to squeeze Minho’s hand before toppling back to empty the basket. “But I care for you, hyung. Of course I wanna take care of you. I care for you, I love you.”

 

It’s too much, way too much, Minho thinks, eyes now swimming with tears as he dips his head low, fumbling with the pair of chopsticks Jisung hands him. He’s lucky that it’s dark, and Jisung doesn’t say much else after that, just brings out plates and opens the containers, letting the enticing smell of food waft up to them. It takes Minho a few minutes to tamp his emotions down before he realises he’s really, really hungry, and even though it’s a huge amount of food almost all of it is polished away between the two of them.

 

Minho entertains Jisung with funny stories of what had happened at the studio today as they take bites of noodles and meat, and soon their laughter becomes one with the night wind and the night sky, like windchimes on a lazy summer afternoon. The food is good, really good, and Minho knows it’s probably the result of Chan cooking, because Jisung can make decent _jajangmyeon_ but he’s seen him burn the meat so he’s going to take an educated guess and chance that Jisung didn’t do much of the cooking.

 

“Chan-hyung helped make everything but the _jajangmyeon_ ,” Jisung admits sheepishly, looking away like he’s embarrassed, “I wanted to cook for you, hyung, but I don’t think you’d like it if you came back to a burned kitchen, so…”

 

Minho giggles. “Just planning all of this is so sweet of you, Jisung-ah, you don’t need to be sorry for anything.”

 

Jisung looks over at him then, a smile unfurling on his lips, and Minho just looks, enraptured. Just looks at Jisung, who’s bathed in the faraway streetlight, yellow glare harsh but looking like mild sunshine on Jisung’s hair, streaks of brown and golden haloing his face and making him look more ethereal than Minho could possibly imagine. The night around Jisung fades away, and all Minho sees is Jisung.

 

Maybe it is this exact moment - that Jisung had cared, that Jisung remembered, how he looks like in this poor imitation of the sunlight that somehow works for him - that Minho finds he can truly hope that he has something with Jisung, believes that he can trust Jisung, knows that if he falls Jisung will catch him. Knows that whatever he feels for Jisung, Jisung feels for him a hundred fold over and it’s still too soon but everything is overflowing and the same emotions he had tamped down are now threatening to spill.

 

Jisung breaks the silence. “You’re staring,” He says quietly, a softer smile now edging the corner of his lips.

 

“So - sorry,” Minho says, flushing, “You - you just look pretty.”

 

Jisung merely laughs and leans over, the back of his hand brushing against Minho’s cheek, “Yeah, but hyung, you’re beautiful.” He looks into Minho’s eyes, searching - for what? He doesn’t know what Jisung is looking for, but Jisung finds it, and a soft, slow smile unfurls over his face, becoming all of the stars in Minho’s universe in that one moment, and the touch of Jisung’s hand against his cheek makes him feel things.

 

Feel things like he adores Jisung to death, and he’s barely known Jisung for - _what, a few months, half a yea_ r - and his feelings run deep already. Feels things like he could spend an eternity beside Jisung and still find ways to fall for him. Feels things like he would give Jisung anything at all to keep him happy, always wants Jisung to look at him like this.

 

“Hyung,” Jisung murmurs quietly, and with a small jolt Minho realises he’s looking at his lips.

 

“...Yeah?”

 

“You know, it’s been six months since we met,” Jisung says, hand now cupping Minho’s face, and he’s staring relentlessly into Minho’s eyes, gaze strong even in the darkness, but Minho isn’t scared, just feels comforted, returns the gaze with his eyes crinkling in the corner.

 

“I know,” Minho breathes, “Like I could forget.”

 

 _Like I could forget about you_?

 

“I can’t get you out of my mind, hyung,” Jisung admits, “Whenever I see stray cats in the street, I think of you and how you want cats when you get your own place. When I go to the grocery store and I see that awful spray you like, I think of you. When I pass by the petrol station I remember that you like the smell of petrol.” He had looked away as he said this, blush creeping up his neck, but then he looks up at Minho again, this time the words soft, “I’m going crazy. Every small thing reminds me of you and I - I really like you, hyung. I really do. You - you make so incredibly happy, you really do.”

 

The same tears that Minho had tamped down is brought to his eyes again, and really, he’s the one being driven crazy. It’s not fair how Jisung can say things like that, looking so earnest, with his ears red and hands warm around against his cheeks.

 

“You can’t just - say things like that,” Minho mutters, and he knows Jisung can hear the sob in his voice, can feel the tears that are sliding down his cheeks against his will, can see that he’s shaking.

 

And that’s okay. Jisung can see him cry.

 

“Hyung,” Is all Jisung utters before he’s moving closer, and then his face is in Jisung’s neck, and Jisung is pressed into his side, warm and soft and very much _Jisung_ and Minho clutches at his shirt, shaking. “I’ll stay with you,” Jisung says into his hair, right by his ear, “I’ll always stay by you from now, as whatever you want me to be. I promise you, hyung. I’ll always stay with you.”

 

Then Minho hiccups, still crying, not really knowing why he’s crying, but he knows - knows that no one has ever said that to him, no one had chosen him and said he was the one. It only makes him clutch closer, breath in the smell of Jisung’s detergent shakily and try to memorise the warmth that is their bodies pressed together like this. If he could, he’d never want to let go, would always want to stay like this, pressed together and hearts beating fast.

 

And when he stops shaking, and they’re just close, he says it. He says it like the words have been hovering on his tongue for a millennium, each word dropping like precious pearls to string into a beautiful necklace only meant for Jisung, always meant for Jisung. “I like you, Jisung.” And Jisung stills, arms that were around his waist clutching tighter on instinct. “I like you a lot, Jisung - and - and I promise too. I’ll always stay by your side.”

 

Jisung pulls away in the next few moments, and Minho can see the emotion in his eyes even in the darkness, can see how his eyes glimmer with the light of the streetlamps, honey-brown and soft and shining with what Minho thinks are barely-there tears.

 

“As yours,” Minho adds on, voice barely above a whisper, not willing to break the delicate moment, “Always as yours. If you want me to, I’ll stay as yours.”

 

The silence after he says the words isn’t scary, not like Minho thought it might be. Instead, it’s comforting, it embraces. His words draw around the both of them like a warm blanket on a chilly night, drawing them together irreversibly. Like this, Minho can feel the minute shake of Jisung’s shoulders, how his face is buried in his shoulder and Minho thinks his shirt is becoming slightly damp.

 

It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters when he has Jisung in his arms, and it’s just the two of them and the endless night.

 

“I’ll stay with you as yours,” Jisung says after a while, when he can speak again and his voice isn’t trembling, and he has the pleasure of seeing Minho’s mouth quirk up, stretching into a smile that he has grown to love so much.

 

“Be my boyfriend?” Minho ask, while his courage is red-hot and pleasant to the core, “Be my - partner - lover - my significant other?” _My everything, my always, my universe, my love_? He doesn’t say the words but he knows Jisung knows. Minho’s hands are cold, and as he loops one hand around Jisung’s neck, he’s sure Jisung can feel the cold in them, but he doesn’t flinch.

 

“Yes,” Jisung says, light and airy and happiness tinging his tone high, “Yes, of course, always.” Once again, Minho is dazzled by the stars in his eyes and the sunshine in his laughter, enthralled by Jisung and heart beating so fast.

 

Then Jisung’s drawing closer, so close, and Minho can’t quite make out the features of Jisung’s face in the dark, but it doesn’t matter, he knows he has ages to do so, knows he has a forever to touch the slope of Jisung’s nose and the sweep of his eyelashes and the fullness of his cheeks. Jisung’s looking at him again, like he always likes to do, and his mouth is parted slightly, then the words rush out of his mouth.

 

“Is it okay if I… if I kiss you, hyung?”

 

The question echoes into the dark night delicately, reverberating in their hearts and etched into their memories, the first chapter of a story that only they can write. The question stays in Minho’s heart, and he stores it away as a precious memory to bring up again and again, to remember that Jisung, with his shy smile and warm hands, had asked to kiss him and looked at him like he held the answer to the whole universe.

 

“Please,” Minho says, then says it again just because, “Please.”

 

And so, it’s the stars twinkling above them that are their only witnesses, that watch them draw together and find home in the simple press of their lips to each other. Minho’s lips are so soft, Jisung realises, a haze now settling over his mind. They’re so, so soft, and the way Minho melts into the kiss is so endearing that Jisung can’t help but try and press them closer when they’re already as close as can be.

 

It’s warm, even in the cool wind of near midnight, their watches ticking. Minho’s phone, lying abandoned, lights up with another notification, and Jisung peeks at it as their mouths slowly separate, but still very much against each other, breath hitting their lips as they catch their breath.

 

“It’s 11:11, hyung,” Jisung says, a teasing lilt to his voice, “Make a wish.”

 

Minho shakes his head slightly, smiling, and he’s never kissed someone while smiling and talking. “Yeah? My wish is - my wish is for you to kiss me again, please?” He can see how Jisung’s eyelashes flutter like this, how his cheeks scrunch up when he smiles, can see how Jisung’s hair falls into his eyes, and Minho is taken with all of this.

 

And even though he doesn’t say it out loud - _because you’re not supposed to say wishes out loud_ \- his wish has already come true. Already come true by how Jisung laughs, smiles, presses back close again and presses their lips together, warmth melding together so easily, so simply.

 

Minho’s mouth is addictive, Jisung thinks, and he can’t stop kissing Minho, keeps pressing their lips together in short bursts before they part and he’s kissing Minho’s cheeks, then the tip of his nose and the back of his eyelids and his forehead, then once again hovers against the pair of lips he swears he’ll know like the back of his hand in mere days.

 

“Yours, hyung,” Jisung whispers, a promise only for Minho to hear.

 

“As I am yours,” Minho murmurs, then leans forward again.

 

The night sky folds over with hazy silver sheets, rolling over the glimmering stars and casting a shadow over everything below them. Everything is cast into the darkness, but their happiness is bright and it is palpable, a star that the two of them nurture, that will glow and grow stronger until it’ll be visible through the darkness.

 

It’s only their beginning.

 

(and jisung - jisung is floored. before he had minho he didn’t know happiness had a sound, but now he can put a name to the sound of happiness, and it is minho’s laughter. before he had minho he didn’t know happiness could take his hand and press kisses to his knuckles. before he had minho he didn’t know happiness could sound so sweet, that happiness could call him and sing to him and tell him _i miss you_ . before he had minho he didn’t know happiness could call him _jagiya_ and offer to take him on coffee dates. before he had minho he didn’t know that happiness could be another person, and he swears, as he presses kisses to minho’s mouth until the other almost falls asleep, that he will always protect this happiness, always, always.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for some reason the chapter is a lot shorter than i expected how it would turn out T.T but adding more words would spoil the flow and well you can expect more words from me soon bc i have things planned B))
> 
> my kink is to read comments from you guys so please do :3 i dont bite and i uwu 24/7 so come talk to me!!!!!! i hope you liked this chapter, and look forward to the one next month! we're 1/4 done with 2019 now, let's continue to improve!! aside from that, i really enjoyed writing this chapter bc i needed to find new ways to describe the night and kisses (if u couldnt tell i was this close to imitating a piece of summer :<<) and i hoped you liked the imagery~~ 
> 
> i'll see everyone next month, and until then, remember to take care of yourself!!


	4. Silver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a long, drawn out silence, punctuated by memories of tears and broken voices and pain like a punch through his gut, then -
> 
> "Welcome home." 
> 
> Minho breaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: they get into a fight, self-esteem/insecurity issues
> 
> ala WELCOME BACK GOIS it's APRIL we're 1/3 way throguh 2019 s been a fuck a of a month and im here to break everyone's hearts <3 but dw!!! you know me the angst isnt gonna last (coughcough) and we'll be back to the regularly scheduled fluff next chapter :3 aannnd i wrote this in one day please dont ask me if im okay i am cleary NOT 
> 
> also ive had some trouble with the pacing of the storyline and bc i wanna keep it for next chap, minsung have beem dating for half a year as of this chapter, and the anniversary referred to here will be their 6 month anniversary but other than that i hope you enjoy the chapter!! and dont forget to scream at me if i broke your heart bc if enough ppl's hearts are broken i might jus have a teenie little surprise for everyone :3
> 
> ((also psst minsung share a bed but NOTHING SPICY HAPPENS ok nothing goes on S JUST CUDDLIN))

 

_ the both of us, not wanting to hurt each other _

_ kept to ourselves, these glass shards and barbed wires, _

_ and only hurt each other more in the end, _

_ but we can get better, we’re still together _

 

* * *

 

 

The question has been carefully revolving in his mind for days. It has felt like an age to him, with how much he doubts himself and keeps finding reasons to delay asking Jisung. Tonight, though, he stares down at his palms, room a mess from packing, and tries to recall why he feels this way. 

Was it when Jisung ran up to their coffee date last week, half an hour late but clutching a bouquet of blue violets and jasmine flowers, their fragrance clouding Minho in a fog? 

Was it when Jisung started to not come over on weekends, holing himself up in his art studio to finish his project, not coming out until he was satisfied? 

Was it when Minho told him he would be leaving to Japan for two weeks for his work, and Jisung had accepted it with a simple  _ okay _ ?

For every single time that it happened, Minho had reasoned nothing was wrong. Jisung was late because he was busy, and he brought flowers as an apology. Jisung not coming over anymore since the past month was fine, because he was hard at work. Jisung not really minding Minho wouldn’t be here for two weeks was fine too, because they were strong, two weeks would pass by in a breeze. 

Or, maybe, was it when Minho kept catching Jisung texting someone instead, laughing and paying more attention to them than his own boyfriend? 

Minho had tried to play off his own insecurities by playfully whining that Jisung never paid any more attention to him, only giving it to whoever he was texting. Jisung had thrown his phone aside at that without a second thought, grabbing Minho in a tight hug and and started pressing kisses all over his face, claiming that, “My attention is  _ always _ on you, baby, you don’t need to worry about it.” He had smiled then, a small, gentle one that meant  _ my heart is yours _ and Minho knew he had nothing to worry about. 

Still, that doesn’t stop his mind from spinning into overdrive, and he  _ knows  _ he shouldn’t be like this, shouldn’t distrust Jisung, but he’s always so  _ afraid _ that he isn’t good enough, that there will be someone else that can love Jisung better, and then one day Jisung won’t be part of his life anymore. All of these thoughts, he shares with Jisung, and Jisung assures him over and over again, presses kisses that seal promises into his skin, inks words into his skin that Minho never wants to wash off.

Slowly, Minho starts to get better, counter attacking the questions his own insecurities poses, but sometimes he can’t help himself despite his own logic. He wants to know why Jisung never,  _ never  _ comes over now, because it’s been at least two months by now that Jisung hasn’t stayed the night, or for dinner, always going back as soon the sky is golden and orange. 

Tonight, it’s a weekend, and Minho is alone again. Jisung had often slept over in the first few months of their relationship, the need to be close manifesting in dried drool in each other’s hair and numb limbs and morning breath. It had been domestic, and Minho couldn’t believe he had the privilege of waking up to Jisung by his side. But now, he’s alone, and he has almost forgotten how soft Jisung’s hair is, how his cheek looks smushed against the pillow, and the tear between affection and annoyance when Jisung leans over to kiss him, morning breath and all. 

He would have all of that back in a heartbeat if he could. 

Still, it takes another two more days before Minho says anything about it, when he’s steeled himself to drop the words. Jisung’s situated in his living room, looking like he belongs, and Minho can’t remember how long it’s been since Jisung’s been over just to lounge around. 

“Minho, baby?” Jisung asks, looking from his phone to where Minho is standing a little listlessly, looking a little lost. “What’s wrong?” 

“You never stay over now,” Minho blurts out, then winces. So much for not trying to sound jealous, or possessive, or accusatory. “It’s just - you used to sleep over, and - and you haven’t for the past two months… I just - miss you staying over. Is all,” He amends, mumbling his words as he reaches the end of his sentence, and looks at the couch cushions instead of Jisung. 

“It’s not my home, I can’t keep intruding on you and Channie-hyung,” Jisung reminds him gently, tossing his phone on the couch and coming to stand in front of Minho. “And I’ve been busy with my project. I’m sorry, I swear I’ll start coming over as soon as my art project is finished.” 

“I know,” Minho says, settling his hands on Jisung’s waist, “I know. I just - miss you. And I’m gonna be away for two weeks, I won’t be able to see you as often.” 

Jisung loops his arms around Minho’s waist, pulling them closer together. “It’s just two weeks, we can make it.” He presses a kiss to the corner of Minho’s mouth, and adds, “I’ll miss you so much, I really will.” He reaches a hand up to brush Minho’s bangs away from his eyes, then frames his face gently, letting Minho lean into his touch. “I’ll miss you so much, baby, you have no idea.” 

“We’ll be together again in a little bit,” Minho murmurs, “It’s just two weeks, right?” 

“Two weeks,” Jisung echoes, then dips in to press a kiss to Minho’s mouth, still soft and pliant after all this time. 

So, Minho leaves for Japan like that. He leaves with a searing kiss to his lips and a searing promise that Jisung seals in his heart, and it’s with slightly teary eyes that he departs, Jisung making a huger fuss of it than it is. 

“Remember, our anniversary is when you’re away,” Jisung says, rubbing a hand over Minho’s knuckles. They’re standing at Minho’s gate, waiting for the boarding announcement to be called, and Minho’s trying to drink in as much of Jisung as he can, remembering how he smells and looks and laughs and pouts so he can make two weeks last. “But don’t worry about it, you’re gonna be busy working, so we can celebrate when you come back.”

“I can’t forget our anniversary,” Minho grumbles a little, pulling Jisung in for a hug. “You take care of yourself, okay? Don’t hole yourself up in your studio for a whole day, or I’m flying back to put you on house arrest.” 

Jisung just snorts, jabbing Minho’s waist and relishing in the squeak that the other releases. “You take care too, baby. Text me when you land safely, yeah?”

“Of course,” Minho says, letting a smile grace his face. “See you,  _ jagiya _ ,” He adds, leaning in to kiss Jisung as the boarding announcement is broadcasted to the whole airport. “Two weeks, hmm?” 

“See you, baby,” Jisung says fondly, pulling Minho back in for another kiss, like he can’t help himself. “Only two weeks. We can survive, yeah?” 

“If I can, so can you,” Minho retorts, and the unspoken  _ love you _ hangs in the air, and he wants to say it, but he thinks it can wait for a better scene than a crowded airport, people jostling past the both of them. “I have to go now, Sungie, see you!” 

“See you, Minho,” Jisung bids, watching Minho pass through the gates with a soft gaze, before he’s making the solitary road home, waiting until he can see Minho again. 

Even with all the distance between them, they bicker as usual, and it’s familiar and warm and Minho feels like Jisung is right beside him when they do. They bicker about small things, like when they should call so the other could rest, or why Jisung’s choice of ramen that night wasn’t good and  _ that other brand is better _ . It’s stupid, but it’s comforting. 

At first. Minho doesn’t quite know when their bickering takes a turn into seriousness. One moment, he’s jabbering at Jisung about the other’s choice of ice cream flavour, then Jisung’s voice cuts in, sharper than what’s usually reserved for their bickering. “I like this flavour, okay?” 

Minho blinks. “Wow, okay. Way to tell me to drop it.” 

Jisung fights a yawn. “Oh - oh shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you, hyung.” 

Something twangs painfully in MInho’s chest. Jisung hasn’t called him hyung since they started dating, instead opting for petnames because Jisung’s cheesy like that. There’s a new distance growing between them, and Minho doesn’t like it.

“You look tired,  _ jagiya _ ,” Minho tries, “You should go to bed soon, hmm?” 

“I will, actually.” Jisung looks at him through the screen. “Goodnight, baby. Call me when you’re free, okay? Tell me what happens to the model who fell into the bushes, yeah?” 

“Of course,” Minho says, as the strange feeling in his chest eases, but continues to pulse there, waiting. “Goodnight, Sungie. Sweet dreams.” He blows a kiss into the screen and Jisung giggles, catching it and placing it on his lips.

“See you, baby.” 

“See -” The call ends. 

In an instance, the insecurity inside him bubbles up again, but he squashes it down firmly, knowing that Jisung was  _ tired _ , and so was he himself. It had been a long day of getting to know the models, what they would be wearing and where they would be shooting, and Minho is ready to drop into the plush sheets and sleep his exhaustion away. 

Even so, it doesn’t stop the thoughts that break into his mind as he’s about to fall asleep. They take root in the vulnerability of sleep, and Minho is defenceless. They break into his calls with Jisung, reminding him of the  _ what if what if what if _ but Minho does his best to quell them, reminding himself that it’s difficult for both of them, and they just have to survive two weeks like this. 

But in the midst of all their rushing and work, something’s bound to go wrong. It happens like this.

Minho, exhausted and wrung dry by the day’s work and the unexpected delay as one of the models is dressed in the wrong set of clothes, and he has to start a new session again, dragging his work late into the night. Minho, remembering that it’s their anniversary and firing a text to Jisung, all sweet and multiple heart emojis and an apology because he doesn’t think he can call. Minho, going back to his hotel room and falling straight into bed without any more preamble, so sorely tired that his mind is a fog of everything and he can’t think straight.

Minho,  _ forgetting their anniversary. _

It’s not like he  _ forgets _ \- he’s texted Jisung, and he has been so absorbed in his work that he had passed out as soon as he went back. He doesn’t receive the call from Jisung, or the next one, or the one after several text messages, because his phone is on silent and he’s fallen asleep. The phone rings, then rings again. It stops, then the screen flashes with one last message before finally fading into the darkness that shrouds Minho until morning breaks into the blinds he didn’t close. 

It isn’t until he finishes washing up that he checks his phone, and he’s immediately inundated by a wave of guilt, all 5 missed calls and nearly 20 texts from Jisung, varying from  _ happy six months baby!  _ to  _ you must be exhausted hyung, let’s celebrate when we get back _ and the final  _ sweet dreams, hyung _ . The guilt eats at him, knowing that Jisung must have been disappointed despite all his support, and he leaves several voice messages before heading off to work with a heavy heart.

Jisung texts him back in the middle of his day, and Minho only gets to read them when he has a short lunch break. 

[13:02] no, baby, you were busy, it’s fine

[13:02] besides we can always celebrate when you come back!! 

[13:02] i just wanted to see your face for like 5 mins

[13:02] it’s been less than a week but i miss your stupid ass already 

[13:03] when are you free to call? 

[13:03] remember to take care and rest okay 

[13:03] i don’t wanna celebrate with you being sick 

[13:17] i’m going back to class now, have a nice day baby!!! 

Jisung ends his text deluge with a bunch of heart emojis and a picture of the coffee he had picked up on the way back to class. Jisung’s not angry. He just wanted to see Minho. 

MInho bites his lip, moving the messages up and down, reading and rereading them, as if he could somehow turn back the time if he looked at them for a long enough time. He eventually texts back, telling Jisung he’s free this evening, and that he’s fine, and asks about Jisung’s art project. Maybe he’s projecting his own insecurities and fears, but Jisung seems to be cooler, a little more distant. 

Maybe that’s where things really start to go wrong. 

More days pass, then Minho’s left with one more week in Japan, due to return home very, very soon, and he can’t wait for the week to be over. But more than that, today’s his  _ birthday _ and he’s just hoping for maybe a small happy birthday from Jisung. They had celebrated Jisung’s birthday with all their mutual friends last month, and it had been messy and loud and everyone had groaned when Minho drew Jisung in to press an affectionate kiss to his mouth.

Today, he wakes up to a wave of texts from his friends, all wishing him happy birthday in various ways, and he laughs at all of them, replying with a sincere thank you to all of them. It’s with a beating heart and stuttered breath that he opens his chat with Jisung, wondering what he’ll find. 

Scanning the messages, he reads over the usual good morning messages, and a promise to call Minho tonight. No sign of a birthday wish. Heart sinking a little, Minho replies then shuts his phone, wondering if Jisung forgot, or if he was planning something when they called tonight. 

“Jisung wouldn’t forget…” He mutters to himself as he gets ready. Still, he has to shake the thoughts out of his mind as he rushes to start his day, his schedule of the day coming to the forefront of his mind. The worry plagues the back of his mind as he rushes through meetings and photoshoots and editing sessions, trying to figure out which ones were better for the pictorial. The worry accompanies him through his day, prickling him the moment he has a spare moment, and it only makes him nervous and edgy, worried about the call later tonight. 

_ It’s not a big deal if he forgets _ , Minho tells himself sternly,  _ we’re both busy, and it’s natural to forget dates sometimes. It’s not going to change how much he loves me _ . The thought passes through his brain, and it’s only a few beats later that he realises what he’s said to himself.

_ He loves me _ . 

That’s right, Minho thinks, and the thought overrides his anxiety for now, because he  _ knows _ Jisung does, just as much he loves Jisung. The confidence he has propels him through the remainder of his day, until he’s collapsing in his hotel room later in the evening, worked to the bone and his mind thin. He has maybe ten minutes, nearly nodding off before his phone is ringing, singing sweetly with the ringtone he had picked out for Jisung. He fumbles with the buttons for a while before finally selecting the correct button, fingers shaking with nervousness.

“Hi, baby,” Jisung says, as soon as the call connects. Jisung’s face looks drawn and weary, like he had pulled an all-nighter. “How are you?” 

“I’m good,” Minho says, his worry for Jisung skyrocketing. “You look so tired, Sungie, what happened?” 

Jisung waves his hand, but his jaw looks tightly clenched. “Nothing, it’s just - I’m not too happy with one of my paintings and I decided to restart it and I have a lot to do now,” He sighs, blowing his bangs upwards. “I didn’t sleep too well last night as well, so… I’m kinda tired. You sure you’re okay, though, hyung?” 

_ It’s my birthday _ . “No, I’m good, just the usual.” Minho pauses, wonders what he wants to say. “Make sure you take care of yourself, yeah? Can’t have my baby falling sick, can’t have you not feeling well, right?” 

“You’re  _ my  _ baby,” Jisung complains lightheartedly, laughing, “Don’t steal that from me.” 

“I can baby you as well,” Minho says, smiling unknowingly as he watches Jisung. “We’re both supposed to look out for each other, aren’t we?” He surveys Jisung for a little while longer, listening to the other explain why he decided to restart one of his paintings, before his tirade is interrupted by a yawn that squeezes at Minho’s heart. “You’re so tired, Sungie, go to bed, yeah? We can call another day when you’re better rested.” 

“No,” Jisung whines, elongating the syllables, “I still wanna talk to you. I miss you so much, can’t I sacrifice my sleep for a little while longer?” 

“Not when you’ve had like, two hours of sleep last night,” Minho fires back. “Go to sleep, you look like you’re about to pass out.” He takes a breath, then asks, “Do you know what day is today?”

Jisung squints at him. “Um… Tuesday?”

“Ye - Yeah. I was checking if you lost your mind yet. Go to sleep, Sungie.” 

“Alright, good night, baby. You sleep too, yeah?”

Minho smiles. “Of course. Good night,  _ jagiya _ .” 

_ It doesn’t matter _ , Minho repeats to himself,  _ it doesn’t matter _ . Jisung is  _ tired _ and it’s natural that he forgets sometimes, but it doesn’t manage to quell the petulant  _ he should remember this  _ that rises in his throat, hot and fast and burning, and Minho doesn’t want to feel this way, like he’s hiding something from Jisung. Before he falls asleep, he contemplates texting Jisung several times, crafting his sentence in his mind and typing it out to see how it plays out, but he never sends them.

He’s a coward. He’s afraid of hurting Jisung. He’s afraid that he’ll cause something to break between them.

It isn’t until two agonising days later, in which Minho had cried once, typed out several paragraphs but never sent them and couldn’t sleep well, that Jisung calls him. He receives the call with a shock of nerves that presses into his chest fearfully, not knowing what’s going to happen but his throat is catching and he thinks  _ this is it _ .

“Hey,” Minho says, as Jisung’s face appears on his screen, but Jisung doesn’t smile back. 

“Baby,” Jisung addresses, “Hi. You - You didn’t tell me it was your birthday on Tuesday.” It’s not a question, and there’ something hard in his voice in the way he makes the statement. 

The words are stuck in Minho’s throat. “It - It’s nothing. You were tired, you needed to rest. It doesn’t matter.”

At that, Jisung’s brows furrow, and he leans closer to the screen, like he’s trying to get closer to Minho instinctively. “Nothing? It was your birthday, baby, I can’t  _ miss  _ that.” 

“But you did,” Minho breathes, the words out before he can help it, and he’s sure his voice is shaking, breaking. “You forgot - I - I - didn’t -” He’s struggling to get his words out, a film of tears starting to cloud his vision, and he thinks he sees Jisung stand up in panic, and then,  _ and then _ , “- do you not care anymore, Jisung?” 

In an instant, the atmosphere changes, and Jisung’s expression turns steely,  _ defensive _ , and then he’s saying, “I’m not the one who forgot our anniversary -”

“You forgot my  _ birthday  _ -”

“I - no - that’s not the point, this isn’t -”

“That  _ is  _ the point because you  _ forgot _ -”

“I didn’t  _ mean  _ to… I just - I was just -”

“Tired,” Minho finishes, his voice small, quivering. “I know. That’s why - it doesn’t matter. You were tired.” 

There’s a pause, and Minho thinks the screen has been frozen, with how still Jisung is, but then he’s running a hand through his hair, weary, and Minho feels the guilt crushing down on him, suffocating and unbreathable. 

“I  _ was  _ tired,” Jisung says quietly, looking into the camera now, “But it doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.” Minho has almost forgotten how piercing Jisung’s gaze can be when Jisung is serious, and it makes Minho feel small, like he’s naive. “I - Maybe - Maybe we should take some time to cool off, Minho.”

“No,” The words are out of Minho’s mouth before he can stop them, “I don’t wanna - don’t wanna leave this fight until I get back. Jisung,  _ please _ . Let’s talk it out?” 

The words stretch into a too long silence between them, one that is too tight and too high-strung for them to just leave it that way. Minho can’t think properly, his words lost somewhere in between his guilt for something,  _ anything _ , and an overwhelming urge to cry. He tries to pluck up his bravery from the drained recesses of his chest, but he’s failed every time, and it’s Jisung that opens his mouth first. 

“‘M sorry, hyung,” Jisung says, voice crackling and static-ridden over the video call. “I shouldn’t have forgotten your birthday, or accuse you of forgetting our anniversary. I just - I was so tired, from all the work, and you not being here like I’m used to, and - I lashed out. I’m sorry, hyung, I really am.” His voice is getting tighter as he speaks, like he’s about to cry, and Minho thinks his own eyes are already wet. 

“I didn’t mean to snap at you like that, and I’m sorry for doing so, it wasn’t right,” Jisung continues, starting to sniffle, not able to look up into the screen, the adrenaline and anger now morphing into guilt and exhaustion. “I shouldn't have brought up the past things, too… I’m sorry.” 

“‘S not your fault,” Minho murmurs, so quiet that Jisung has to strain to hear. “We were both busy and - we forgot. ‘S okay. To - To forget.” He swallows. Tries to remember what exactly he’s trying to say. 

“I’m - It’s - It’s just that, I’m - not good at - at trusting myself. And I felt you were… kinda distant. Before - Before I left for Japan, and then when you forgot my birthday, I knew you were tired, but I still kept thinking about it and… It got to me.” He’s pretty sure Jisung can see the tear tracks running down his face now, but he doesn’t care. It’s Jisung. 

“So - So I lashed out too, and it wasn’t right of me to do that. I’m sorry, Jisung. It’s not fair to you. ‘M sorry too, I really am.” Minho’s now struggling to keep his words from slurring, struggling to hold back the floodgate from bursting, struggling to maintain a hold on his mind so he can tell Jisung that above all, he doesn’t want to give up on them. 

“We’re both at fault,” Jisung says, trying to laugh a little, but his voice is torn from crying and his earlier anger, and it makes Minho’s heart thinner, more pained. “But, hyung - I - care. I care for you, hyung. I don’t - don’t want us to end.” He waits a beat. “At all. I don’t want us to end at all. I just - I care so much hyung, I - can’t bear to see you hurt like this because of me.” His expression is drawn in and so, so weary, but it feels like he’s reached through the screen and settled close next to Minho. 

Minho fumbles with his thoughts, trying to sort out which one he needs to say the most. “You didn’t hurt me, Jisung,” Minho eventually settles on, “I always think too much, and it comes back to bite me, and that’s not on you. You - made me worry, but never -  _ never  _ hurt. I’m sorry too, Jisung. I shouldn’t accuse you of - forgetting.”  _ Of not caring _ , the subtext goes, and Minho rolls on as Jisung’s head jerks up. 

“I think we both have things to work on,” Minho says, steadying his words but still not quite able to meet Jisung’s eye. “I - I want us to work, Jisung. I don’t wanna give up.” 

“Neither do I,” Jisung whispers back, almost immediately, “Neither do I, hyung.” 

Jisung doesn’t say anymore after that, and Minho’s exhausted all the words he can speak, but the silence is no longer tense, no longer angry, no longer on the verge of breaking. Now, the silence washes over them like the calming waves on a beach, still a little too high and rough, but it’s okay, it’s  _ better _ , they’re not at threat from drowning. 

“Go to sleep, hyung,” Jisung eventually says, once he’s had his fill of having the opportunity of being able to just look at Minho and soak in his presence. “You must be tired.” 

“... Okay.”

“I’ll still be here when you wake up, I promise, hyung.” 

“Okay. Yes.”  _ I trust you _ .

“Goodnight, Minho-hyung. Sleep well.”  _ I’ll catch you _ .

“Sweet dreams,” Minho bids finally, and as he moves to end the call, he swears he sees Jisung smile softly, still etched with pain, but it’s gentle, and a soft _I_ _love you_ leaves his mouth. “Love you too,” He says back, a little too late, black screen and hot phone and cold hotel air. 

They don’t magically go back to how they were after their fight, even when they’ve explained themselves. It’s awkward, and the guilt is eating at both of them, adding to the stress they already carried. Sometimes, Minho catches Jisung almost calling him  _ baby _ , but then doesn’t, swapping it for  _ hyung _ , or just  _ Minho _ , and it makes Minho scared and nervous too, no longer calling Jisung  _ jagiya _ , no more sweet petnames. 

It takes time for them to go back to even a semblance of what they once were, but Minho doesn’t think  _ go back _ is the right word.  _ Improving _ , or  _ going forward _ , would be a better choice, he thinks, and he doesn’t want to go back, even if they had less pain. They had both not wanted to cause pain for the other, keeping the pain to themselves, and it had only manifested like this, still hurting each other in the end, and they need to learn to communicate and tell each other things, even if it hurts.

They’re learning together, and Minho is grateful just to have Jisung be back by his side. It’s still cold, and stilted, the distance between them exacerbated by the actuality that they still have a few days before Minho returns, and they’ve fallen into a polite, almost awkward relationship, both stepping on glass shards around each other, not sure where they stand. 

It tires Minho out. Even if they’re not fighting, he just wants to know if he can call Jisung  _ jagiya  _ again, if he can ask Jisung to sing for him, if he can ask Jisung how his art project is coming. He’s walking on tenterhooks around Jisung, not sure if they’re going to be as affectionate as before, if they’ll ever find themselves comfortable around each other again. 

“We’re still dating, right?” Minho breathes out nervously, one day before he’s due to return. He’s wrung himself out with running everywhere to settle the photoshoot today, and it’s made his mouth loose, anxious worries spilling out when he didn’t mean to let them. It isn’t until Jisung looks up through the screen, wide-eyed and worried, that Minho realises what he’s said. “Oh - I - I didn’t, I just -”

“Yes,” Jisung says, voice strong and steady, “We’re still dating, we’re still boyfriends, Minho-hyung.”

It’s in the way that Jisung still knows what to say, knows how to reassure Minho as best as he can, that convinces Minho’s anxious mind that yes, they’re still together, they’re going to be okay, they’ll come out of this happier at the end of the tunnel.

They’ve settled on a weird truce by the time Minho has come home from Japan, with Jisung texting him a simple  _ I’ll wait for you baby _ , and it’s the petname that brings tears to Minho’s eyes. ‘ _ I miss you _ ’, he wants to text back, but he doesn’t, because he doesn’t know if he can be this honest now; doesn’t, because he’ll be home in a few hours; doesn’t, because he doesn’t want to start facing his emotions now.

The flight is terrible because Minho’s a bad flier, and by the time he’s struggled with his luggage and driven home, he’s truly exhausted and his heart is wrung out and he just wants to sink into his bed and maybe never see the light of day again. The garage is quiet, humming with the sound of the engine, and Minho is alone. Shaking off the feelings as best as he can, he grabs his luggage and heads into the apartment, silence now buzzing in his ears like a pest that refuses to die, and Minho thinks maybe,  _ maybe _ he’s fucked up for good now, despite everything. 

His grip on the luggage handle tightens as the elevator slowly ascends, and he’s sure there are tears prickling at the back of his eyes, but he can’t,  _ can’t  _ start crying here, and it takes everything in him to even keep his composure when he exits the elevator.

Straight, a left turn and then the apartment on the right and  _ Jisung is standing outside _ . 

At first, Minho’s too busy keeping his tears in him that he doesn’t recognise who’s standing in front of him, but then as he comes back to himself, takes in the chestnut hair and kind eyes and familiar fragrance, something bubbles up in his chest, hot and difficult to keep in and then Jisung’s opening his mouth and his expression is smoothing out to a gentle smile and there’s a glimmer of tears in his eyes and -

“Welcome home,” Jisung says. 

Minho breaks. 

“Welcome home,  _ baby _ ,” Jisung just repeats, now hugging Minho fiercely, his accent lilting with the English petname, fond as hell, clutching at Minho just as tightly. 

“I missed you,” Minho stutters through his sobs, “I  _ missed  _ you. I was - so  _ scared _ .” It’s about as coherent as he can get before his words are dissolving into his tears. 

“I missed you too,” Jisung says, and Minho can feel him shaking too, the fabric of his shirt getting wet as Jisung nestles his head into the crook of his shoulder. “I missed you,  _ so much _ , I’m sorry, I didn’t know - didn’t know what we were and - and I was so scared.” He takes a deep breath, then looks up, and he’s sure there are tears on both of their faces, but there’s very little he cares about now, with Minho in his arms. “I was so scared of - fucking up again and - hurting you. And losing you. I - you mean so much to me, hyung, I can’t, I  _ can’t _ ,  _ I can’t  _ -” 

“I know,” Minho whispers brokenly, as in much pain as Jisung is, “I know.  _ I know _ .” 

They’re together, and the pain should ease, but now their pain seems multiplied, like they’re feeling each other’s pain; yet, shouldering it together is more feasible, is better, no longer blindly walking their individual paths to try and not hurt each other. They’re  _ together _ , and that’s all they need at the end of the day, to come home to each other, and even if they aren’t good now, they will become good, will become better. 

They stand outside Minho’s apartment for what seems like ages, until the tears on their shirts dry and salt is crusted on their cheeks and lips. Jisung tugs Minho into the apartment, hands soft and warm and he helps Minho to bring his luggage in. Minho, spent and worn-out, just follows Jisung, noting somewhere in the back of his head that Chan is absent, and lets himself be guided to his own bedroom. 

It’s like once upon a time, they way they shower and get ready for bed. Jisung goes to hog the shower first while Minho sits cross-legged on his bed, staring blankly at all that he has to unpack and wash. He stays like that until Jisung comes out, skin warm with the water and hair still dripping, coaxing Minho to go get clean as well. 

It’s methodical, relaxing, even, as Minho strips and turns the tap just wary of too hot, knowing that Jisung is just outside and they have the night together. Yet, it’s only when he exits the shower that he realises he forgot to bring clothes in, but sitting on the sink is a pair of his sweatpants and an old t-shirt, and Jisung must’ve put them there. The action alone makes him far too teary, because it’s physical proof that Jisung still cares, that Jisung still wants this, that Jisung still loves. 

When he leaves the bathroom after tamping down his tears, the bedroom is already dark, just the bedside lamp on, silvery moonlight streaming in through the gaps of the curtains, and Jisung is waiting for him, eyes closed and chest moving slowly up and down. For a moment, he thinks Jisung is asleep, but then he’s opening his eyes, a smile drawing across his lips, and he reaches for the towel slung around Minho’s neck as Minho walks closer. 

“Dry your hair, hy - baby, you’re gonna get sick,” Jisung chides gently, hands coming up to ruffle the damp from Minho’s hair with the towel.

“Say that again,” Minho breathes, dropping down to sit beside Jisung, not able to tear his eyes away from Jisung. “Can - Can you say that again, please?” 

Jisung furrows his brows. “What - your hair - oh. Baby. Baby.” He looks at Minho then as he says the words, hand coming down to cup his cheek gently and wipe at the tears that roll down. “Baby, I’m here, we’re together, we’ll be okay, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Minho utters, repeating the words so they can revolve in his mind when he needs them most, “We will. Be okay. We’ll be - okay.”

“Together,” Jisung promises, pressing a kiss to the back of Minho’s hand, “Always.” 

They fall asleep together like that, limbs intertwined and nestled so closely to each other that Minho can feel the thump of Jisung’s heart against his palm, and the warmth of his arm that bleeds through his t-shirt onto his waist. It’s nice, Minho thinks. There’s still a lot they need to talk about - their insecurity, how they need to communicate, how they’re spending time with each other - but for now, this is his solace, the heaven that he could only skim with the edges of his dreams when he was surrounded by the bleak depths of rock bottom. 

The moonlight filters in, casting silver light and shadows on their figures, and they whisper quietly, meaningless chatter that means  _ so much _ , and Minho brushes away the tears that linger in the corner of Jisung’s eyes, tinted silver by the moon, and hopes he’ll never see Jisung cry like this again. 

Somewhere in between the falling darkness and the warmth that surrounds him, Minho falls asleep. It’s the first time in a week, maybe two, that he’s slept uninterrupted, and when he wakes in the morning it’s because of the blinding rays of the sun that announce dawn has arrived. For one hazy moment, he thinks he’s still in Japan, that Jisung’s still hundreds of miles away from him, and that he’ll have to face the day alone, but then his vision clears and he sees it.

Sees Jisung, eyes closed and peaceful, cheek squished against the pillow and an arm thrown carelessly around his waist, unknowing to the world. Perhaps it’s this sight, and the smell of detergent and coffee instead of disinfectant and perfume, that cements into Minho’s mind that he’s definitely, truly, home, and he can’t help the bubble of affectionate that makes it way into his throat, warming instead of scalding, and he lets a smile stretch his lips, watching Jisung sleep.

“I love you,” Minho whispers, soft and vulnerable from waking up, “Love you so much.” He says it so quietly that he doesn’t think Jisung will wake up or hear him, but then a smile is blooming on Jisung’s face, and he’s opening his eyes, rubbing at them endearingly. 

“Good morning,” Jisung says, voice rough with sleep but a bright smile present. “I love you too.” 

Minho flushes, scrambling for words. “I didn’t - I thought you were asleep!” 

“Aww, were you only going to say it to me when I wasn’t awake?” 

“No! I just - I wanted it to be special, when you heard it for the first time,” Minho mutters, looking away in embarrassment.

Jisung softens at that, pulling them even closer, if possible, and now he can see how Minho’s eyelashes cast shadows over his cheekbones, his messy hair framing his face and his cheeks puffy from sleep. “Every moment we have together is special, and I wouldn’t have you saying it any other way.” He cups Minho’s cheek, tracing a finger down his jaw, then thumbs at his lips. 

“I love you so much, Minho,” Jisung breathes, each word hitting Minho’s lips in a short burst of air. “I love you, and I want us to work. I - I know it won’t be easy, but I promise to stay with you.” 

“Love you too,” Minho says, voice hushed even though it’s only them. “I know it won’t be easy too, but I’m staying. I love you, Jisung.” 

“Can I…” Jisung starts, eyes flickering from Minho’s eyes, to his mouth, then back upwards, a shyer smile curling over his lips, “Can I kiss you, baby?” 

“Yes,” Minho says, a little too fast, but it’s okay, it’s Jisung. 

It’s like they’re kissing each other for the first time again, mouths fumbling to slot together and forgetting to close their eyes, noses bumping, with morning breath and all, but Minho wouldn’t exchange it for the world. The kiss is sweet and simple, just the press of their mouths against each other, relearning what they had forgotten in the two weeks Minho was away, and Minho finds himself sinking into the sheets even more, limbs becoming lax as Jisung kisses all his remaining tension away. 

“Feeling better?” Jisung asks, quirking an eyebrows as Minho stretches lazily. 

“Mm, yeah,” Minho says, and Jisung tries not to stare at his mouth, pink and slightly swollen. “Breakfast, Sungie?” 

“Yeah. Just need to wash up.” 

“You go first,” Minho offers, “I’ll make the bed.” He scrunches his nose when Jisung says they can wash up together. “No,” He whines a little, “I don’t like leaving the bed messy, and you don’t know how to make the bed -” Jisung splutters and whacks a pillow at Minho - “So you go first, I won’t take long.” 

“I’m insulted!” Jisung yells, all the way from the bathroom. 

“You should be,” Minho calls back, squashing the pillows together and smoothing the blanket out, “It’s an insult.” As soon as he finishes, he stumbles to the bathroom, hitting Jisung’s hip as he slots into the space next to Jisung, grabbing at his toothbrush as Jisung squeezes out toothpaste for him. 

Jisung mumbles something as he leans over to rinse his mouth, but Minho doesn’t quite catch it, and he just shoots Jisung a quizzical look, mouth foaming.

“You look funny,” Jisung says, snorting. “And I asked if you want pancakes.” 

Minho just scowls, not able to say much while brushing his teeth, and nods in response to the pancakes. 

“I’ll go start on them, you take your time, okay?” 

By the time Minho’s rinsed his mouth and gotten water all over the sink while washing his face, the smell of pancakes had already started to permeate into the bathroom, and he wanders out, expectations high. Jisung’s pottering around in the kitchen, flitting between the stove, where a pan is hot, sizzling with pancake mix, and the coffeemaker, pressing the buttons in the hope coffee will come out.

“No, not that button,” Minho says, “It’s this one.” 

“Your coffeemaker sucks,” Jisung grumbles, turning his attention back to the pancakes. “Also, Chan-hyung is with Woojin-hyung, and he will be for a few days. I asked him to - well, I asked him for like a day, but he said he’ll clear off for three.” 

Minho stares at him, hand halfway to some ready pancakes. “What - What do you mean, a day? Don’t you have like, art to do? Your project?” 

Jisung’s still looking at the pancakes. “Yeah, I do, but I thought I’d spend more time with you, since we haven’t seen each other for two weeks and - and what with our fight and all. So I’ll still be leaving to do my project, but other than that, I’m all yours.” He looks up then, a small, shy smile unfurling from the corner of his lips. “I wanted to spend time with you.” 

It’s like all the breath has been punched out of his lungs. Jisung chose him. Jisung  _ chose _ to spend time with him, even with his never-ending art projects and the looming deadline. “You - I don’t - you chose me?” Minho doesn’t quite know what to say, mind reeling as he absorbs the information of having three whole days of Jisung to himself. 

“I’d choose you any day, Minho,” Jisung says, “You’re so important to me.” He holds Minho’s gaze then, expression open and trusting, and the once unspoken words fall past his lips. “I love you so much, you have no idea.” 

“Sungie I  _ love  _ you,” Is all Minho utters before he’s kissing both of Jisung’s cheeks and sliding to sit on the bar counter stools in front of the stove. 

And they will have their fights, will continue to have insecurities and miscommunications and misunderstandings, but they made their choice to stay, to love each other, and really, Minho thinks, that’s their journey halfway travelled. He looks at Jisung then, all cheeks and smile and cheeky kisses, and he thinks that there’s no one else he’d choose to stay with. They’ll hurt, and they’ll cry, but they’re going to weather the storms together. 

“C’mon baby, the food is done, let’s eat!” 

“Let’s eat,” Minho repeats quietly, fondly, and when Jisung least expects it, presses a sticky maple syruped kiss to the apple of his cheek. 

They’ll get better, together. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now that ur heart is broken pls scream at me <3 dont worry about next month bc it will be fluffy again, but i thought it would be interesting to explore minho's insecurities and how that plays into his relationship bc i think it does happen irl right?? anyway i would jus like 2 remind everyone that if u want a relationship to work out it isnt just love, its also a choice. you have to choose to love them, choose to want this to work out. relationships dont magically come about just bc u love each other so :3
> 
> also i kinda feel like their fight isn't drawn out? m not sure but their fight seems 2 be pretty concise like they know what theyre arguing about and then they start apologising OR IS IT JUST ME i dont know ive read this too many times and i feel like crying but other than that i hope you guys have a good day!! see you guys next month~~~


	5. Purple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minho closes his eyes as the hair stylist levels him a look as he picks out the colour he wants, and just hopes for the best. 
> 
> "You're brave," Donghyun comments, but Minho chooses to ignore that as well. Whatever that happens - well, it happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: N/A 
> 
> we're back 2 the regularly schedules fluff :>>>>>>> so i hope you enjoy this guys!!! this got pretty long but i didnt wanna cut much out because last chap was kinda heavy and i thought this would be a reprieve from that~~ 
> 
> i also apologise for the long wait this month T.T i've been having exams, and it's finally finished, and im starting to get back into the groove for writing while also preparing to fly home :D how has may been for you guys? it's probably exam season right? make sure to take care of yourselves, okay? relax and take a night off and focus on yourself, make sure you're in a good place and im always cheering for you guys!! enjoy, as always <3

 

_ our romance doesn’t need to be like what we see, _

_ all those dinners and candles - what are they _

_ compared to warm sunshine and cold takeaway?  _

_ we’ve had many firsts, and this first is our best yet _

* * *

 

 

The collar of his suit itches slightly, and not for the first time, Jisung wonders why he put so much effort into what’s supposed to be a gag celebration.  _ You don’t really think it’s a gag celebration _ , Jisung’s mind supplies, but he tamps that part of his brain down in favour of fiddling with the collar of his shirt and presses his lips together, the bouquet of flowers in his hands at risk of being decimated in his tight grip. 

 

“‘M almost done,” Minho calls from his room, “I just can’t get my ribbon right - Sungie, can you help me?” 

 

“Sure!” Jisung yells back, setting the flowers down and if his footsteps towards Minho’s room is quick, it’s because he wants to get out of the apartment faster since they’re cutting it close with their time, not because he’s never seen Minho in formal wear and his heart is thudding in his chest. There are exactly ten steps from the living room to Minho’s room, exactly two pushes to get the door to open because it’s stubborn, exactly three seconds that Jisung has before Minho’s turning to face him, a thin ribbon in his hand and a smile graced on his face. 

 

“Help me?” Minho asks, but Jisung’s ears are buzzing, watching Minho’s mouth form words he can’t hear. 

 

Maybe a swear word of two falls from his mouth, but Jisung’s pretty sure his jaw is on the floor. Minho had donned a simple white shirt with a black coat over it, matching trousers, and there are a few chains crossed round his waist, accentuating both his waist and thighs. The suit look unfairly good on him, the fabric clinging to his thighs and the chains falling prettily around his hips; the long earrings he had chosen wink in the light of his bedroom when he tilts his head, and with a faint jolt, Jisung realises Minho’s asked for help.

 

“Ri - right,” Jisung says, stumbling on both his words as well as his feet as he approaches Minho. 

 

“Are you okay?” Minho asks, a little worried with how hot Jisung feels when he places a palm against his forehead, but then as he watches Jisung loop the fabric around his collar and tie the ribbon and studiously avoid his eyes, he starts to grin, catching on. 

 

“Jisungie,” Minho starts, his smile unfurling slow and teasing, “Do you think I look good?” 

 

Jisung squeaks at that, but he doesn’t get out of Minho’s personal space, just lets his hands drop loosely to his sides, like he’s unsure of where to put them. “I mean - I’ve never seen you like - like  _ this _ -” He swallows a little, “- and - and yeah! You look - yeah - um -  _ wow _ .” 

 

“I look wow,” Minho says, laughing a little and tugging Jisung in by his belt loops so they’re chest to chest and Jisung can’t look anywhere but only into Minho’s eyes. “Well, you look wow too, Sungie.” He tugs at the white tie lightly, fingers smoothing over the lapels of Jisung’s black suit and smooths out his equally black dress shirt. “Really, you look amazing.” His eyes flit from the cut of the shirt to the sleeves of the coat that ripple across the muscle in Jisung;s arms, and he helps Jisung adjust the tie for lack of better things to do as his cheeks flush a little.

 

“And so do you,” Jisung replies, finally composing himself and willing his heart to slow down and the red in his cheeks to fade away. “You’re ready now, baby? I’ve got something for you.” 

 

Minho pouts a little at that, checking his appearance one more time before grabbing his phone and wallet and heading out with Jisung into the living room. “That’s not fair! You  _ told  _ me not to get a gift or anything and  _ you  _ have? Jisung that’s  _ not fair _ -”

 

“It’s just some flowers,” Jisung says, laughing at Minho’s petulance. “I saw a florist on the way here and I thought I’d get you some!” He passes the bouquet to Minho, who seemingly forgets his complaints and stares at the bouquet, fingertips brushing lightly over the tender petals and as he looks at them, a smile blooms over his face, lost in their beauty and fragrance. 

 

And he’s just  _ standing there _ but Jisung’s the one that’s floored.

 

How can someone just stand there, admiring a bouquet, and look  _ this  _ beautiful? Jisung etches this picture into his mind - Minho, suit-clad with a bouquet of purple lilacs and white daisies, hands dipping into the blooms with an equally lovely smile on his face, eyes soft as he looks at them and hair falling over his eyes - and he wants to draw this out, wants to frame it in the temple of his memory, wants to remember this for an age and forever. 

 

“You’re - you’re so beautiful,” Jisung murmurs as he draws closer to Minho, their hands naturally coming together as Minho looks up, the stunning smile still playing across his lips. 

 

“And you’re gorgeous,” Minho says, bringing Jisung’s hand up to his lips and kissing the back of his hand lightly. “Thank you,  _ jagiya _ , I really love them, they’re so pretty.” He leaves for a while then, fussing with them and trying to find somewhere to put them, and eventually props them up with a stack of books before being ushered out the door, almost late to their dinner reservation. 

 

It was Jisung who had suggested they go out for dinner on the weekend before the weekend their first anniversary actually fell on. In all actuality, he had only mentioned they go for one jokingly, remembering that Minho didn’t quite enjoy cheesy, romantic dates as much as homey, simple dates where it was just the two of them. He hadn’t expected for Minho to agree and even pull him in for a kiss, and then he had found himself glued to Minho’s side for the rest of the evening, looking for restaurants that were suitably romantic but fit their budget. Minho’s enthusiasm had infected him, and he chose to ignore that he suggested it as a gag in the first place, and so their dinner date was settled. 

 

“Why do you wanna go a week earlier than when our actual anniversary falls on, though?” Minho had asked after they had picked a few restaurants out. 

 

Jisung shrugged and kissed the top of his head then. “Gonna do something you like on the actual day.”

 

“What do you mean ‘something I actually like’?” Minho laughed a little then, sliding an arm around Jisung’s waist, “I like anything if you’re there.” 

 

And that had been that. That one sentence, said without too much thought but easily showing how much they meant to Minho; that one sentence, said in passing in the dim light of his bedroom when they were both sleepy; that one sentence, carving itself into Jisung’s heart and a lightness starts in his chest that cuts through the sharpness of his fatigue. 

 

Happiness. Adoration.  _ Love _ . 

 

“I love you,” Jisung had said then, breathless with affection, their sides pressed so close together they’re sharing warmth. “I really do.” 

 

“So do I,” Minho had murmured then, “For this year we’ve had and all the years we have in the future.” 

 

And if Jisung compares the smile Minho had given him then - soft and warm, fuzzy like he’s wrapped in a sweater, lips curved sweetly and endearingly, eyes even softer as he had settled into sleep - and the one MInho gives him now as they get into his car - bright and bursting with energy and affection, buzzing with excitement so uncontainable that it reaches his eyes, makes it sparkle, brown hued anticipation deep and cloying - and he thinks he loves them both, loves them all, loves Minho and all that he is. 

 

The car drive is peppered with music and Jisung’s frantic navigation as Minho almost misses a few turns, but they eventually make it there with time to spare and no casualties. 

 

“Under Lee Minho, please,” Minho says as they approach the receptionist, who greets them with a friendly smile. 

 

“Table for two, am I right? This way, please,” The waiter says, leading them to a table near the back and leaving them with menus. “I’ll come around when you’re ready to order.” 

 

“It’s nice here,” Minho starts, “But - oh that’s weird - that couple look like they’re about to - oh - oh - alright.” 

 

“Classy,” Jisung says, lips quirked up as he scans the menu, but Minho’s right, the restaurant is really nice for a place that’s budget friendly for a college student and an assistant photographer. The lighting is dim but just so that it’s considered romantic and not vision hampering, and there are flowers spilling from the rafts of the ceiling, with a single red rose in a vase on their table. There are no vases on any other tables so Jisung thinks the staff must have made this effort when Minho told them they were celebrating their one year anniversary when they made the booking. 

 

“Is this romantic enough for you?” Jisung teases after they place their order. “Thought you didn’t like romantic, cheesy things, like the ones we watch on the shows.” 

 

“No I don’t,” Minho says, scrunching his nose a little. “But I mean - it’s always so exaggerated on the shows, and I don’t find like, candles and flower petals everywhere practical or anything but - but it’s nice when you’re with someone you love. It feels more - more genuine.” There’s a shy smile on his lips and his blush is visible even in the dim lighting, and Jisung never knew he could fall for one person so many times in so many different ways. 

 

“I just thought you didn’t like overly-romantic stuff in general,” Jisung admits. “But I’m glad you’ll like this, it’s nice to go on cheesy, romantic dates sometimes.” 

 

“You’re the cheesy one,” Minho replies, “Bringing me flowers… Taking me on a midnight picnic and asking me to be your boyfriend under the stars… Suggesting we go for a dinner date for our anniversary… You’re definitely the romantic here, Sungie.” 

 

“Is that really so bad?” Jisung asks, pouting a little as he leans over the table to look at Minho properly, “You love it when I’m being cheesy, I know you do.” 

 

“I love you,” Minho says, evading the question entirely. He’s saved by their food coming, and Jisung becomes too distracted with fawning over the food to question Minho some more, and Minho thanks the world for good timings. 

 

It all, however, comes back to bite him when the waiter brings out a slice of cake with rose petals scattered around the plate and an elegant ‘1’ inscribed on it with icing and presents it to them, congratulating them on their one year anniversary, leaving Minho flustered and Jisung grinning as he melts back into the shadows. This is utterly,  _ utterly  _ cheesy, and with how widely Jisung is smiling, Minho thinks Jisung had asked the waiter to bring this out as a surprise just to see if he actually liked romantic gestures.

 

“Happy first anniversary, baby,” Jisung says, and there’s a little teasing undertone to his words but the smile on his face is genuine, words dripping with affection and when he reaches over the table to hold Minho’s hand, his palm is warm. 

 

Minho scowls slightly, but he squeezes Jisung’s hand and besides, the hotness he feels on his face speaks for itself and is probably visible to Jisung anyway. “Happy first anniversary,  _ jagiya _ .” His words come out soft, undeniably sweet, almost like he can’t help the vulnerable note of emotion in his voice as he looks between the cake and Jisung, dapper in the dim lighting of the restaurant. 

 

The way the lights play over Jisung’s features, makes his eyes sparkle and light up; the way Jisung laces their fingers together and that alone tells Minho that he loves him, so much; the way he still looks like the first time they met a year and a half ago, still looks at Minho the same way he first asked Minho to be his under the night sky; the way he tells Minho in an undertone that he loves him, something only for his ears to listen - it makes Minho want to take a picture of every moment here, want to preserve and cherish them forever so he can keep looking at them when they’re older, when he needs to remember what love looks like. 

 

The cake is indulgent, and soon Minho will forever associate the taste of dark chocolate melting in his mouth with Jisung, with this day, their hands held tightly on the table and almost eating rose petals, cream on the corner of his lip and muffled giggles as one of them reaches over to wipe it off. 

 

Dark chocolate and sweet smiles and sweeter words, dark chocolate and a breathy  _ I love you _ , dark chocolate and a hot flush running through his body as Jisung kisses him in the middle of the parking lot, more saccharine than any kind of candy in the world. 

 

It’s on the drive back to Minho’s apartment that Jisung tells him the dinner date was originally supposed to be a gag, tongue loosened with time, food, and adoration. There’s a short pause before Minho starts laughing, eyes still on the road but still shaking, snorting with mirth. 

 

“What do you mean our dinner date was a gag?” Minho asks, his words stuttered out with laughter, and his suit is crinkling up. Jisung thinks he couldn’t have found a better person to have fallen in love with. “That was a very expensive gag gift, by the way... What were you thinking? Jisung!” He’s pulled into his apartment’s parking lot as he had laughed, and now he’s looking at Jisung, smile still tugging at the corner of his lips. 

 

“Thought you didn’t like cheesy stuff,” Jisung says, now laughing along as well. “But turns out you like it with me, so it’s a win-win situation, because we’re celebrating our actual anniversary next weekend.”

 

“Our  _ actual  _ anniversary? We’re celebrating  _ twice _ ?” 

 

“This was meant to be a gag,” Jisung reminds him gently, “But it turned out to be just as real as well, since you liked it. It’s just - it’s just I thought you’d like it if we spent our anniversary doing things we actually like, things you said you like. I was thinking maybe, like, we could go for a walk in town or the park, come back and watch a movie with takeaway and cuddle, if you wanna. I mean, if you wanna do that, that is - it’s just, you’ve mentioned these things before and I thought it’d be nice.” 

 

“Oh, my god,” Minho utters, then he’s leaning over the gear shift to hug Jisung tightly, uncaring that their suits are going to be crinkled and an utter hell to take care of later. “You remembered what I said? I’m pretty sure I said that at the beginning, when we just started dating… And I’d love to, you know.” He pulls back slightly to look at Jisung and adds, “I love when we do anything together, but that sounds perfect, it really does.” 

 

“‘M glad you think so,” Jisung murmurs, low in his voice, then he’s pressing forward to kiss Minho, one hand curled behind his neck, threading through the base of his hair, the other hand coming to cup his face tenderly. “Happy one year, baby,” Jisung says, but Minho feels the words rather than hears them, feels their shape pushed against his lips, feels the way Jisung cups his face, feels the way Jisung’s fingers are raking through his hair.

 

Feels like he couldn’t be more in love. 

 

“Happy one year,  _ jagiya _ ,” Minho says, voice hushed, and it’s just them for a moment, a world where only two of them exist and nothing else really matters. 

 

_ Knows  _ he couldn’t be more in love.

 

* * *

It’s late Friday afternoon when Minho gets off work, and he sits at his desk for a few minutes instead of actually packing up, so winded by the long meeting he just had with his supervisors that his head is still spinning a good half hour later. 

 

“You look dead,” Moonbin, his colleague, remarks as he passes by, the model he’s working with walking beside him. “Isn’t your anniversary with your boyfriend this weekend? Look perkier, not like you want to tear your own hair off.” 

 

“Yes it is,” Minho groans, “But do you really think I can survive a meeting like  _ that  _ without wanting to tear my hair off?” He runs a hand through his hair tiredly and gives a small wave to the model that Minho is sure has been here for at least a few weeks now. “Hi, you must be the model Moonbin is working with, right?” 

 

The model smiles and nods, shaking Minho’s proffered hand. “Yes, I am. I’m Park Seonghwa, it’s nice to meet you. Moonbin-ssi has told me many things about you, actually.”

 

“Yeah,” Moonbin interjects, “Like you never shutting up about your boyfriend. It’s become a staple in the office, I think everyone watches you like an episode of some hot new drama.” 

 

“Shut  _ up _ ,” Minho grumbles, throwing a paper weight at Moonbin, who catches it without blinking. “I do  _ not  _ go on about Jisung -”

 

“Not true,” Jungwoo, another colleague of his, sings as he passes by, already packed up and ready to go home. “I’ve started marking how many times you mention your boyfriend in a week, and look -” He holds up a sticky note with seventeen tally lines and grins. “All from this week alone, and mind you, this is from me, and I don’t sit in the same area with you, unlike Moonbin, so the count is probably way higher.” 

 

“How anyone else thinks you’re innocent and naive is beyond me,” Minho says loudly, “You’re  _ bullying  _ me. This is workplace bullying. I’m  _ quitting _ .” His colleagues are clearly and flagrantly ignoring him, still gossiping about him and Jisung, and even Seonghwa is pulled into this gossip.

 

Yet, their words hold a semblance of truth to them. Minho  _ does  _ talk about Jisung a fair amount in the office, usually when Jisung calls him during his lunch break, or when he’s tired and his mouth is loose and he starts a tirade about Jisung. The frequency of him mentioning Jisung had increased significantly after their six-month mark, and with how invested the office is in his love life, it means he  _ has _ talked a lot about Jisung. 

 

“I’m going  _ home _ ,” Minho declares, “Where I won’t hear any of you gossiping about my love life, you nosy drama watchers.”

 

“Home to your boyfriend, right?” Moonbin asks, teasing, and moves out of the way as Minho aims a joking punch at him. “Also, your roots are growing out, if you haven’t noticed, Mr too-stressed-and-in-love.” 

 

Minho’s hand moves up to touch the crown of his head, squinting at one of the reflective surfaces on the wall, vaguely seeing the black growing into the dyed honey blonde, and sighs a little. “Fine, fine, I’ll go for a touch-up or whatever, you’re so fussy.” 

 

“We’re  _ photographers _ , Minho!” Moonbin squawks. 

 

“You’re still keeping the same colour?” Jungwoo asks, a touch of curiosity in his voice.

 

“Why, what’s wrong with this colour?”

 

“Get on with the trend,” Moonbin says, gesturing towards Seonghwa’s shock of bright blond hair, a far cry from the mellow blonde that Minho’s been sporting. “Bright, offending colours is in season, because it matches with absolutely nothing and I’ve had three designers break down in tears in my office. Make your own life harder as well, Minho.” 

 

“Thanks,” Minho says dryly, “I’ll take your advice.”

 

“Happy anniversary!” Jungwoo yells as Minho leaves them, and there’s a few similar shouts from his other colleagues. He waves a hand in thanks before he’s rushing down the stairs and throwing himself into the car once he actually remembers where he parked that morning. 

 

In the car, he surveys himself in the visor mirror and starts the car engine thoughtfully, letting it run for a while before making his mind up. Moonbin’s right, he should go for a touch-up, and the more he looks at his hair, the more convinced he is. It’s a decision. Not necessarily good, but definitely a decision. He pulls up at the same salon where he previously dyed his hair and walks in before he can second-guess himself, waving at the receptionist and spying a figure in the back. 

 

“Appointment?” The receptionist - Donghyun - says, but Minho shakes his head. 

 

“No, sorry, I came in on a whim -”

 

“You can’t just  _ waltz _ in and want your hair to be done,” Donghyun says, “Just because we  _ know  _ each other -”

 

“No!” Minho says, waving his hands, “I mean, no, I came because I just had this idea and I  _ know _ you’d love it, so I came in the hopes you have a free slot?” 

 

“You’re hopeless,” Donghyun mutters in protest, but he checks something on his computer anyway. “One of the hyungs are free in fifteen minutes, so you have to wait. What are you coming in for?” 

 

“Dye,” Minho says bluntly. 

 

“You like making my life hard,” Donghyun says, sighing, but logs it into the computer.

 

Minho spends the whole fifteen minutes talking to Donghyun to take his mind off the fact that he’s about to do something probably very stupid, and he’s got no one to stop him. Chan is busy working, and Jisung is fussing over his exhibition pieces at university, and frankly, none of Minho’s other friends have been very good at exercising any form of control over him anyway. Talking to Donghyun is familiar and comforting, both of them having been to the same dance studio as well as meeting in the hair salon, and it’s just nice to have a friend of his own age. 

 

Half an hour later, Minho sits in the chair and thinks he’s about to make the stupidest decision of his life when the hair stylists asks  _ what colour  _ and Minho blurts it out before he can regret it. 

 

“This is gonna be great,” Donghyun says, giggling, then he’s settling down to watch the process. 

 

It takes close to three hours, just around the time Jisung would be done with his exhibition pieces for the day, and Minho’s eyes are still firmly shut, not quite wanting to know how he looks. His hair is being blown dry, and it honestly feels like it needs oil, but that’s for the him of another day to deal with, because the hair stylist tells him he’s done and Minho is about the face the consequence of having poor impulse control. 

 

He opens his eyes, and has to close them again, adjusting to the light of the room and the vanity, then as he looks at his hair, he can’t help but let a breathless chuckle leave his lips, hands reaching up to comb through it. It’s definitely... a look.

 

“Never thought you’d go for this, to be honest,” Donghyun remarks as Minho approaches the counter to pay. “What, is it the latest trend? You gotta tell me, c’mon.” 

 

“Obnoxious colours that don’t match any of your clothes,” Minho replies. “Make yourself everyone’s problem, that’s the latest trend.” 

 

Donghyun waves a dismissive hand. “I know at least five people who know how to do that, that isn’t special. I expect to see your boyfriend the next time you come, alright? You have so many pictures of him on your Insta, it’s not even funny, it’s just ridiculously sweet.” 

 

“I’ll think about it, my hair might fall out if I keep dying it,” Minho shouts back, then he’s jogging to get back into his car. His heart thumps messily in his chest as he starts the car and jams a beanie onto his head, making the drive to Jisung’s university. It’s just after peak hour so the traffic isn’t too bad, but it still takes him fifteen minutes to make it the university, and he can see Jisung just making his way out, typing furiously on his phone. 

 

“Sungie!” Minho calls from his car, rolling his window down. “I’m here.” 

 

“Baby!” Jisung says, lighting up visibly. He bids goodbye to his friends then he’s sliding into the passenger seat, turning round to kiss Minho hello. He moves back after that, about to put his seatbelt on, then he spies the beanie and narrows his eyes, one hand stilled on the metal buckle of the seatbelt and the other still hooked under Minho’s chin. 

 

“What’s that,” Jisung asks, more than a little apprehension in his voice. “What have you done to your hair, Minho?” 

 

“What do you mean?” Minho returns, playing for time, but Jisung just quirks an eyebrow and he sighs. “Fine. I got it dyed.” 

 

“... And?” 

 

“And it looks like this,” Minho says, and tries not to show that his heart is leaping into his throat as he takes the beanie off and ruffles through his hair, freshly dyed the same shade of lavender the lilacs were that Jisung gave him. “What do you think, do you like it?” He asks, slightly nervous, but it eases as he watches Jisung’s jaw drop a little, eyes a little wide. 

 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Jisung breathes, eyes trained on the purple strands, looking deceptively soft and fluffy. “Baby, it’s  _ purple _ , oh my  _ god _ .” 

 

“You don’t look okay,” Minho says, a note of uncertainty making its way into his voice, but then Jisung’s threading a hand through his hair, an awestruck expression on his face. 

 

“You look beautiful,” Jisung says quietly, warm in his tone. “You looked amazing with your blonde hair but this… you look like you belong in a fairy tale or something, you look - incredible.” He leans over then, presses an affectionate kiss to the corner of Minho’s mouth as his hand leaves Minho’s hair and comes to smooth over the highs of his cheekbone. “You look really, really good.” 

 

“Thank you,” Minho murmurs. “I just got it dyed as a spur-of-the-moment thing, I didn’t know if it was gonna be okay. ‘M glad you think it’s nice.” 

 

“I think it’s more than nice,” Jisung counters. “The colour of this purple looks really good against your skin and it makes you look like you’re straight out of another world, it really suits you.” 

 

“My arts major boyfriend,” Minho sighs, “Speaking art lingo. Keep going on, you sound so much more intelligent than usual.” 

 

“And this boyfriend,” Jisung says, unable to resist pressing another kiss to Minho’s cheek, “Has to go home and finish the final draft of his critical study if he wants to spend his anniversary with his boyfriend.” He grins when Minho scowls and pinches his side playfully before backing out and driving Jisung to his off-campus apartment. 

 

“See you tomorrow,” Minho says as Jisung unbuckles his seatbelt. “Remember to actually sleep tonight, okay,  _ jagiya _ ?” 

 

“See you, baby,” Jisung replies. “And I will. Gotta have energy to spend my anniversary with my baby, right?” 

 

“You’re cheesy,” Minho says, frowning, but his heart is light. 

 

“I love you too!” Jisung returns cheerfully. “Go home and do something about the smell of your hair, it smells like death. See you tomorrow!” 

 

Minho can’t help but laugh as Jisung slams the car door shut and he drives home. Jisung is insufferable sometimes - but so is he, and perhaps they’re meant to be together, even in the smallest ways. 

 

* * *

The next morning dawns bright and sunny, and the first thing Minho sees is a reminder on his phone that it’s his first anniversary, as well as a deluge of messages from Jisung. The words on his phone, from his reminder, sends a jolt through Minho, and he finds himself not quite believing that it’s been a year, he’s been together with Jisung for a year, they have been a year. It makes him smile widely, even when the rest of his mind is still fuzzy with sleep and his eyes are pretty much glued shut. 

 

[08:20] good morning baby!! 

 

[08:20] i’ll meet you at 9 :D 

 

[08:20] happy first anniversary baby <3

 

[08:28] i hope your hair isn’t crusty by the way

 

[08:28] that would make cuddling hard 

 

[08:29] i still love you tho

 

[08:29] crappy hair and all

 

[08:30] also your hair really is pretty it really is 

 

[08:30] send me a selfie so i can draw you and brag about you

 

[08:31] im gonna go get ready now 

 

[08:31] see you later baby <3

 

Minho just sits on his bed, reads the messages a few times before replying, a small smile etched on his face just by reading the messages, and when he locks his phone after replying, he leans back against the headboard and closes his eyes. His mind takes him back, back to the start, through everything they had shared so far. 

 

The first date they had, all pink cotton candy in Jisung’s brown hair and the smell of grease and excitement around them, noise cloying but all he can hear is Jisung. 

 

The first time Jisung had painted on his arm, pretty green vines swirling up and dotted with beautiful flowers, how Jisung held his brushes and paints and made them his own. 

 

The first time they kissed, under the night sky, all velvet and onyx, and the way all the crushed stars in the sky tipped down on them like raining stardust when he asked Jisung to be his boyfriend. 

 

The first time they had said they loved each other, silver tear tracks still marked on their cheeks but smiles starting to inch up their lips, skin warm against each other.

 

All of this and more runs through his head, swirls like tangible silk he can gather in his fingers and weave into a picture and frame it so it doesn’t fray with age and time, and he just hopes that the silk threads never break. His eyes land on the photograph on his table, and he can’t help the small smile that spreads across his face, remembering all the photos he had taken since they started dating, and there must be hundreds of them, thousands more in his laptop when he needs to clear the memory and transferred them. 

 

The process of getting ready is methodical, his body on autopilot as his mind is full of  _ Jisung Jisung Jisung _ and the fact that  _ it’s their anniversary today _ , and the bubbling feeling in his chest just gets more and more prominent as nine draws nearer, hands on the clock ticking closer. 

 

In the bathroom, the lights make his purple hair look different. Sharper, brighter, more neon, and Minho runs his fingers through it, sweeping some oil on to make sure it isn’t too dried out. Donghyun had spouted several hair care tips the last time he dyed his hair, and Minho’s sure he’s stashed that advice somewhere in his phone, and he’ll deal with taking care of his hair later. 

 

It’s nine, and just on cue, the doorbell rings, echoing through the apartment. 

 

“Hi, Jisung!” Chan’s voice says, and he’s clearly gotten to the door before Minho could even take a step out of his room. 

 

“Hi, hyung!” Jisung greets, and his voice sounds like sunshine itself, shining directly into the apartment, and Minho finds himself already smiling just by listening to him. “Still working on that track from last time?” 

 

“You betcha,” Chan laughs, but there’s a note of strain in his voice, “Gotta make sure it’s perfect. Anyway, you didn’t come for me, you’re going out with Minho, right?” 

 

“Yeah,” Jisung says, just as Minho comes out into the living room at that moment. “And there he is. Hi, baby!” 

 

“Morning, Sungie, Channie-hyung,” Minho greets, grabbing his keys from the bar counter. “I’m ready to go now.” 

 

“Oh, before you go, what time are you coming back?” Chan asks as Minho wears his shoes. 

 

“Maybe 11?” Jisung answers on their behalf, “We’re not sure, but probably before lunch.” 

 

“I’ll be going out at half past ten, that’s why,” Chan says, “So if you’re coming back soon I don’t need to lock everything up. Have fun, you love birds.” 

 

“Says you,” Minho returns. “See you, hyung!” 

 

“Hi,” Jisung says when they’re out in the sunshine, fingers laced messily together. “Slept well, baby?” 

 

“Yeah,” Minho hums, “Liked the messages you sent this morning. You always make mornings so much better.” He squeezes Jisung’s hand affectionately as they take the path towards the city centre, breeze blowing past and making them huddle closer instinctively. 

 

“That’s why I send you morning messages,” Jisung says easily. “I’m happy when you’re happy.” 

 

It’s almost dangerous how fast Minho’s heart starts beating, flushed at Jisung’s words and their simple, honest truth. Jisung isn’t even exaggerating - the moment he notices that if he does something and it makes Minho happy, he continues to do it, just for the sake of his happiness. Minho still remembers when he asked Jisung why he always sends morning messages when he has to wake up earlier, sacrificing his sleep when he was a college student with deadlines. 

 

“The messages make you happy,” Jisung had said, answer the same right from the first time, “And I become happy when you’re happy. It’s - it’s a selfless kind of happiness, I think? I just like it when you’re happy, really, and if I can be the source of your happiness, I’ll keep doing so.” 

 

Jisung’s still the same, a year ago and now, when they’re alone or when they’re in public, in the shroud of their nightly calls or in the sunshine like they are now, and the only thought revolving in Minho’s mind is  _ i love you i love you i love you _ and he can’t seem to get his words out past the bubble of affection that’s lodged in his throat. 

 

“What’s on your mind?” Jisung asks, swinging their joined hands a little as they approach the city centre, the bustle of the city crowds only becoming more apparent now. The crowds jostle them together and they’re made to walk even closer together, so Jisung lets go of his hand and opts to slide an arm around Minho’s waist instead, urging Minho to do the same. 

 

“I love you,” Minho says simply, hand curling round Jisung’s waist and feeling the warmth seep into his fingers. “Was thinking of when we first met, and I just - really, really love you.” 

 

“Me too,” Jisung says, smiling so hard that it seeps into his voice, into his words, into his eyes, and it makes everything just that prettier, just that warmer. “I love you so much, you know?” 

 

And Minho knows, he thinks, because he loves Jisung back with just as much intensity, just as much ferocity, loves him so much his lungs are diamond lined when they were coal once, and all that he says for Jisung is precious. 

 

Jisung buys an ice cream for him, and it’s the same striking purple shade as his hair, and the flavour of the berries explode on his tongue as the creaminess melts away under the heat of the sun, and Minho finds himself laughing so hard he’s about to spill his ice cream everywhere, hands hooked together. 

 

Under the sun, like this, it’s a far cry from the dim lights of the restaurant. There is no romantic ambience here, no classical music crooning as they take their food, no surprise cake as their celebration. 

 

No, here, it’s hot sun and cool breeze, sticky ice cream staining their lips and melting over their hands. It’s warm gravel and warmer benches, the green of the grass and the blue of the sky searing into their eyes as they run through the park, careless in their happiness. It’s them spinning together and tumbling onto the dewy grass under the shade of the trees, tears of laughter and exertion gathered in the corner of their eyes as they bask in the heat and each other’s presence. 

 

They almost doze off under the tree before Minho’s pulling Jisung him, urging for them to go home, because, “Jisung, I’m  _ hungry _ , I didn’t eat breakfast!” They tear through the park on the way home, chasing each other and giggling, so caught up in each other that the world fades away, and they are each other’s rising dawn. 

 

When they arrive at Minho’s apartment, Minho unlocks the door and they tumble in, exhausted but limbs light and loose. For a few moments, they just collapse on the couch and close their eyes, regaining their energy before Minho’s getting up to build a makeshift pillow fort in his room, leaving Jisung to call for takeaway. 

 

“Our usual, baby?” Jisung yells through the apartment, and he gets a muted  _ yes _ . It’s all he needs to order, and by the time he’s done, he can hear the shower going in Minho’s ensuite. 

 

Entering Minho’s room, Jisung can’t help but giggle at the pillows and cushions spread around the bed, blankets spilling to the floor and laptop already open and set in the middle of the bed. Minho comes out just a few minutes later in fresh clothes, a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, looking so homely that Jisung draws him into his arms for a kiss. 

 

“You go wash up,” Minho says, slapping Jisung with his towel as he climbs into bed, “You stink, and you’re not allowed anywhere near here before you’re clean.”

 

“Just because I did it  _ once _ -”

 

“Once too many!” Minho shivers, still remembering the time when a sweaty Jisung had just lied on his bed before showering. 

 

Jisung leaves to shower, and when he does come back, Minho’s already started scrolling through Netflix, mouth pursed as he decides what they should watch. He slides into bed, nudging Minho over slightly so they can both fit comfortably, legs tangled together as Minho shifts the laptop so it rests on both of their laps. 

 

They take the whole time it takes for the takeaway to arrive to even settle on a few movies they might wanna watch, and they debate over the merits of their chosen selection when they’re eating. The food is delicious, and they eventually settle on one between the bites of  _ jajangmyeon  _ and  _ tteokbokki _ , feeding each other pieces of meat as they finish up the meal and snuggle back into the pillows, laptop propped up.

 

Still, the whole debating process is rendered useless when Minho yawns widely ten minutes into the movie, and predictably, he’s fallen asleep just a little bit later. 

 

“Silly,” Jisung says lowly but fondly, closing the laptop and pushing it a safe distance away. He brushes Minho’s bangs away from his face and drops a light kiss on his forehead, settling the both of them so they’re cuddling. It’s easy to fall asleep like this - Minho, warm and close to him, sated with food and affection - and it isn’t long before Jisung’s fallen asleep too. 

 

Hours must have passed as they nap like that. Their blinds are open and with the way they’re tangled together tightly, it’s causes Minho to wake up - a growing warmth from Jisung as well as the setting sun that’s shining through the blinds and heating the room. 

 

Minho’s confused at first, looking down at Jisung in his arms and the laptop tucked at the end of the bed and finally at the the clock on his bedside table before he realises what must have happened. “I fell asleep,” He moans, aggrieved, more to himself than for anyone to hear. He makes a sound of frustration and it’s this that makes Jisung wake up, yawning and tugging Minho’s arm to lie down again. 

 

“‘S still nap time,” Jisung mumbles, sleep laced in his voice, “C’mon, come back to sleep.” 

 

“I fell asleep watching the movie,” Minho whispers, but he lies down anyway, eyes almost sliding shut as they fit together under the blankets. “‘M sorry.” 

 

“What for?” Jisung mutters, syllables merging together as he falls back asleep, “‘S nothing to be sorry for… c’mon, nap time,  _ shh _ .” He falls back asleep easily after that, eyelashes fluttering and chest moving up and down slowly, steadily. 

 

Minho watches this for a little while until his eyelids are heavy, and the fuzzy feeling in his chest spreads through his body, tingles the tip of his toes and fizzes at the edges of his hair, bursting on his tongue and the urge to kiss Jisung becomes unbearable. He leans close, just enough to press a tiny kiss to Jisung’s cheek, then he’s settling back, sated and satisfied. 

 

The silence in the room continues like that, filled with the sound of steady breathing and the occasional rustle of limbs against sheets. Until the sun sets and the rays of it leaves the room, they hardly move, too deeply asleep that even heat doesn’t wake them, the blanket just kicked away and a sliver of space forming between them for air. 

 

The second time that Minho wakes up is because of the cold. He has to rub a few times until his eyes are adjusting to the falling dusk, and he spies the discarded blanket on the floor. He stands up, almost tumbling over the edge of the bed as he goes to retrieve it, and the little squeak he makes once again wakes Jisung up. 

 

“Wha -” Jisung blurts, stifling a yawn as he swings his head around. “What - Minho? Where are you?” 

 

Minho reaches over to turn the lamp on and drags the blanket up onto the bed, plopping down on the bed again. “Here. Do you know it’s almost eight? We’ve slept the whole day! We’ve slept our  _ anniversary  _ away.” 

 

Jisung hums and negotiates some more blanket over himself with his feet, propping himself up against the headboard. “You mean, we spent our anniversary together,” He says, patting his bedhead down in an attempt to flatten his hair out. It’s a futile attempt and makes Minho smile. 

 

“I still fell asleep during the movie,” Minho says, pouting a little. “And we spent so long choosing the movie too.”

 

“We can still watch it now,” Jisung reminds him gently. “We have this whole to ourselves, there isn’t anything we  _ have  _ to do. I just wanna spend today with you, and that’d be the best anniversary present ever.” Jisung reaches for his hand then, finger stroking over his knuckles and pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. 

 

“I don’t need to do anything,” Jisung continues, looking at Minho now, somehow even more genuine and vulnerable with how he’s just woken up. “We could spend the whole day napping and I’d be happy. Just spending time with you is romantic in itself, we have our own definition of romance.” 

 

“Look at you being all so good with your words,” Minho murmurs a few beats later after he has to swallow his emotions back, suddenly teary with Jisung’s little speech. 

 

“It’s because of you,” Jisung says, moving over to kiss Minho sweetly, briefly. “What do you wanna do now? Watch the movie? Eat some dinner?” 

 

Minho considers all of them, but Jisung’s mouth winks pink and red in the amber of the lamp, and he thinks what he wants to do is just as good, if not better, than anything else. 

 

“Kiss me?” 

 

“Of course,” Is all Jisung says before he’s surging forwards, pressing their mouths together. They go tumbling into the sheets, laughing against each other’s mouth, and Jisung has a hand cupped around MInho’s face and another threaded through his hair. Minho’s hands find their way around, one curling around Jisung’s neck and the other round his waist, and then they’re kissing again. 

 

It’s soft, how they move their lips against each other, almost smiling. They’re still sleepy, not fully-awake, and it doesn't go much further other than Jisung pressing harder and coaxing Minho’s mouth open, kissing his slick bottom lip and nipping at it playfully. It’s comforting, lazily kissing like this, with nothing to remember and nothing to halt their time together, and Minho thinks this is another memory he wants to always hold on to. 

 

“Happy one year, baby,” Jisung says, voice dripping so sweetly that it makes Minho giggle. He arches up to press kisses to Minho’s fluffy purple hair, loving the colour in the darkness of the falling night. 

 

“Happy one year,  _ jagiya _ ,” Minho says, smiling so hard he thinks he’ll feel it in his cheeks for days after this. “I love you so much, I have no idea how.” 

 

“I think I do,” Jisung says, voice hushed as he looks into Minho’s eyes, and for one, shining moment, Minho thinks he can see all of Jisung’s world in his eyes, and it’s himself.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i dont have netflix yes i dont like watching movies i apologise that whole scene when they were picking a movie was me being vague and trying to move past it quickly whOOPS and overall i just hope this was light and fluffy and made you feel just a little bit better!! i have a lot to post over these few months (i.e. summer), and i hope you guys you'll like it!!
> 
> i hope this was enjoyable!! see you guys next month for our halfway mark hehe <3


	6. Brown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is the colour of Minho's eyes, and Jisung finds out what it means to come home to someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: uh like slight arguing in the middle when house hunting? no really angst though; alcohol mention, one of them gets drunk; briefly , very light implied societal homophobia if you read into the context
> 
> highly recommend u listen to svt's home while reading because it's warm and the main colours of that song is brown and that is exactly what im going for here uwu. this is also our first fic whose colour was not mentioned in the fic summary, so you can guess that there are more colours that weren't mentioned! this chapter is super fuckin domestic, it's mostly fluff and them being very sappy and very in love
> 
> it's also our halfway 2019 mark!!!! to everyone, let's continue working hard for the next half of the year, and may the next half be even better than the half that's just passed!! as always, enjoy this chapter <3

 

_ you are my love, and we have built a home, _

_ we’re taking our first step into a new world, _

_ like this, let’s continue to understand each other, _

_ and see our love become more than what we ever thought it’d be _

 

* * *

 

 

_ Please _ , Jisung prays,  _ give me the will to finish reviewing this chapter by tomorrow _ . The words about the history and theory of visual culture in his textbook blur into one big block in his eyes, and he hazards a guess that maybe he needs a break.  _ Maybe _ . He skims over two more lines that are honestly, useless and shouldn’t have ever been written into existence, and decides that he can take a break. 

 

Throwing his textbook onto the coffee table, he sits up properly and looks around him. Chan’s doing something in the kitchen, and Jisung abruptly remembers he’s not in his own dorm, and he makes an effort to be a little more prim, seeing as he’s a guest. 

 

“Done with your revision?” Chan asks, watching him over the bar counter where he’s stood by the stove and stirring something that smells like  _ tteokbokki _ . 

 

“Not yet,” Jisung sighs, “I’ve got two more chapters to review, but I thought I should take a break. Minho’s still in his room right?” 

 

“Yeah. He was on his laptop the last time I saw him,” Chan supplies, going back to whatever he’s actually cooking because it doesn’t smell like  _ tteokbokki _ anymore. 

 

“Thanks,” Jisung calls, then takes the few short steps to Minho’s room, his limbs cracking with the extended period of time they had previously been folded in. 

 

The door to Minho’s room is open, and Minho’s sat at his desk, profile presented to Jisung, and he looks a little tired, eyes squinting as he scrolls through something on his laptop before typing something out. Jisung spends a little while just looking at Minho, the slope of his nose and pout of his lips and the ruffle of his hair - all so incredibly familiar - and even now, it never fails to fill Jisung’s heart with a rush of bubbling affection. 

 

“Hey, baby,” Jisung says, walking closer, “What’re you doing?” 

 

Minho looks up from his laptop, a smile already gracing over his features. It eases the pinch in his forehead and the furrow of his brows, loosens the line of his shoulders and hunch of his back, brings light into his eyes and love into his expression. “Hey,  _ jagiya _ . How’s the reviewing going? Want me to quiz you?” 

 

“‘M taking a break,” Jisung says, coming to lean on the back of Minho’s chair, arms draped over his shoulders. “What’s - oh, you’re looking at apartments?” He kisses Minho’s hair a little absent-mindedly, letting Minho lace their fingers together. 

 

“Chan-hyung’s gonna move out, and the rent here is too expensive for me alone,” Minho explains, “And I want somewhere closer to work, so I’m looking for a new place. I have to hand in my notice in two weeks… I might go and look at apartments sometime this week.” 

 

Jisung makes a noise of understanding as takes all of this in, mind whirring at top speed. He’s been offered a job as a graphic designer through campus recruitment, and he’s due to graduate soon in two months, and graduating means no dorm, which also means he needs to find a new apartment to stay in which he’s been slightly worried about and really, the solution to all of this is so  _ obvious  _ - 

 

“Baby, why don’t we move in together?” Jisung blurts out, brain still cooking at working out the small, finer details like how he’s going to contribute to the deposit or how he’s going to break it to his parents he’s moving in with his boyfriend fresh from graduation.

 

Minho shoots up at that, turning to face Jisung, their hands grappling around with some degree of confusion. There’s surprise, foremost in the lift of his eyebrows and the small parting of his lips, though a tentative look of hope starts etching itself in the light of his eyes. “You - You’re sure?” 

 

“I mean, it’d be a lot of work, and I don’t know how I’d contribute to the rent now and I need to tell my parents too but - but I really want to,” Jisung finishes, his voice becoming quieter, an unconscious display of his serious intentions. He’s holding Minho’s hands; something in the air around them changes. 

 

Minho looks at him - looks, because he will never tire of doing so - and for a split second, he can’t believe that they’ve come this far, that they could potentially  _ move in together _ , and the image of coming home to a place where it’s just him and Jisung elicits such a sweet image that he can’t help the fond smile that unfurls on his face. 

 

“I really want to too,” Minho murmurs, and when Jisung leans in to kiss him, he lets himself imagine that it’s them kissing in a place they can call home together, and that’s all he needs to trust Jisung that they’ll make this work. 

 

“Let’s move in together,” Minho says a little breathlessly against Jisung’s lips, skin warm and Jisung’s heart is racing under his palm like his own. “Let’s find an apartment together.” 

 

Jisung smiles against his mouth. “Okay.” 

 

They start looking for apartments just like that. Jisung still has to prepare for his final written exam, but that’s dealt with before the week even ends. As a result, he spends a lot of time with Minho, both poring over a screen and trying to gauge if the previews for the apartments look remotely similar to what they might see. 

 

“Why don’t they have a floor plan?” Minho bemoans. “I can’t imagine how the apartment looks like!” 

 

Jisung decides to put his learning of space to the test. 

 

They fuss over the financing - Jisung’s parents are willing to contribute to the deposit only if they can meet Minho; Jisung assures Minho this is good news - and what kind of apartment they want. There are the typical studio type apartments, but there are also apartments with separate rooms as well as lofts, and they settle on looking for several apartments spanning from cheaper, bare studio apartments to affordable fully-furnished, move-in ready lofts. 

 

Minho calls his work to free his schedule up while Jisung makes appointments with the agents, trying to negotiate most of the visitings to within one weekend. He manages to slot all the appointments over the course of three days, two days of which are over the weekend, and they consider it a win. 

 

Jisung’s standing at the doorway, about to leave for the night when it really, really hits Minho. It’s such an odd moment for reality to sink in, but as he watches Jisung put his shoes on, Minho thinks that soon, the shoe rack won’t be filled with his and Chan’s shoes; rather, it’d be his and Jisung’s. 

 

“We’re moving in together, hmm?” Minho hums a little. 

 

“We are,” Jisung says affirmatively. He pulls Minho closer to plant a loud, almost obnoxious kiss to his cheek, a grin wide on his face. “Can’t wait to wake you up at two when I have an idea for a design.” 

 

Minho snorts and steadies himself to kiss Jisung properly. “Like you don’t do that now, just through text?” As he lets go of Jisung though, the thought of it makes him a little fond. “And you say that like it’s a bad thing, silly.” 

 

“So you admit everything's better with me?” Jisung asks cheekily. “Are you happiest when you’re with me, baby?” 

 

“Get out!” Minho squawks, pushing Jisung out of his sight. “Have fun and don’t ever talk to me again!” 

 

“I love you too!” Jisung yells, jogging down the stairwell. 

 

Minho sighs dramatically. “Whatever, love you too.” Before he can even go back inside however, his phone chimes sweetly, and when he reads it, it’s just a spam of hearts from Jisung accompanied with a short ‘ _ love you baby, i really do _ ’ signed off with a kissy face. 

 

He sends back a meme of a cat that he edited full of hearts and makes his way back in.  _ I’m so incredibly in love _ , Minho thinks to himself, and really, that doesn’t sound bad at all, not when it’s with Jisung. As an afterthought, he sends another ‘ _ i am _ ’ to Jisung before going back to looking at some of his photographs. 

 

He pretends he doesn’t blush when one of Jisung’s friends - Changbin - sends him a snap of Jisung that’s just captioned ‘ _ he’s talking about you _ ’ and in the photo, Jisung’s smile is bright, his eyes curved, and he looks like happiness distilled into a person.

 

* * *

 

Friday seems to take an absolute age to come, yet they find themselves short on time when Friday does come. First it’s Jisung getting caught up with talking to a university supervisor, and then it’s the subway getting delayed on Minho’s part, and it’s sheer luck that they arrive just five minutes before their scheduled appointment time. 

 

“We both got here in time,” Jisung says, “That’s good. Good energy for our apartment hunting, and it’ll be  _ good _ .” 

 

Jisung apparently, speaks this into existence, because the agent doesn’t bat an eye at their age, nor their held hands, nor their flushed appearances. He leads them to the first apartment - a loft - and explains about the apartment, rattling off the deposit and rent like what the website had said, and lets them wander around for a little. 

 

“I like the light coming in,” Minho says. “It makes the place feel airy and bigger… The loft upstairs is pretty big and we could put your art stuff up there.” 

 

Jisung makes a face. “I suppose yeah, but it just… I don’t know, it’s a little small, it doesn’t feel like somewhere we’d call home.” 

 

“Do tell me more about this feeling you have,” Minho says, laughing a little and entangling their arms together. “What’s somewhere we’d call home?”

 

“It’d be bright and classy,” Jisung starts immediately, “But it’d be warm and cosy at the same time. And the windows should be bigger, because you like to take pictures through the windows all the time.” He pauses and surveys the upstairs loft area a little more intently, then adds, “And more closets because we both have too many clothes and you’d prefer to keep everything away.” 

 

“I’m only tidy because you’re so much messier,” Minho says. “But let’s go look for what you just said, hmm,  _ jagiya _ ?” 

 

They thank the agent before moving on to the next one, just two streets away. Minho pronounces the layout of the next loft-style apartment weird; the first studio apartment they visit has ample storage space, but they both agree it’s too small; the following one, Jisung flat-out dislikes, because “It’s too dark, baby, and the beds are… yeah, let’s go,” so they do. 

 

The last apartment they visit for the day is another loft, and while everything is bright and there’s enough evening light shining in through the windows, there’s simply not enough space for them to move comfortably past one another, let alone add anymore furniture. 

 

“We can’t even fit a sofa or something through that entrance corridor,” Jisung points out amusedly, and so that’s that. 

 

“Nothing really good today,” Minho says when they’re on the subway back to Minho’s apartment. “We’ve got two more days to find a nice apartment… I hope we find one.” He’s starting to get a little nervous now, worried that they won’t be able to find a suitable apartment in time before he has to hand in his notice. 

 

“Hey, baby,” Jisung coos, “We’ve got like, ten more apartments to look at tomorrow and the day after, I’m sure we’ll find one. And if we don’t, we’ll face that situation together.” His hand is warm and reassuring in Minho’s slightly clammy grip, and Minho takes a deep breath, steadying himself. 

 

“You’re right, Jisungie,” Minho says, mustering up a small smile, “We will.” 

 

The weekend becomes a whirlwind of getting up early and spending the whole day out, looking at apartments again and again until they’re both drained. Saturday morning starts on a good note, the first apartment appealing to the both of them. It’s another loft - they seem to have realised their attraction for lofts - and this one has floor to ceiling windows, the morning light streaming in and glaring off the white cabinets; upstairs, there’s a wall of closets and a glass railing. 

 

“This is what I was talking about,” Jisung says, admiring the windows and looking over the view of a city starting to fall into the daily buzz. “Look at this view, Minho! You can see the sunrise and sunsets and everything, even from the loft.” 

 

“It’s more narrow than wide,” Minho observes, looking down from the loft. “What if we scrapped having a living area and made the whole downstairs an office for us?” 

 

“Put a small sofa up here,” Jisung agrees. “So our work and relaxation spaces are completely separated, yeah, that’s great!” 

 

The first apartment might have raised their expectations, so the next apartments they visit don’t seem all that appealing anymore. The next one is a fully-furnished studio apartment, but there’s no visible place where they can make into an office space, so it’s disqualified; the next studio apartment is bright and white, but there’s a blue washing machine that Jisung can’t stop laughing about, and it’s cramped anyway; the last loft-style apartment of the day is relatively classy, but it doesn’t peak in comparison to the first one; they come into dissenting opinions about the last apartment, and Minho supposes they would eventually come to a block in their apartment hunt. 

 

“It’s fully-furnished,” Jisung points out, “We save money on buying furniture like that, and the rent is pretty reasonable, especially since everything’s already here. We could move in immediately!” He pats the double bed a little to emphasise his point and for a brief moment, Minho wonders if they’ve talked about sharing a bed or if that was to be assumed. 

 

“There’s no space for any of your art stuff or my photography equipment,” Minho says, and it’s a fair point. Everything’s been arranged to fit the space it occupies, and adding anything else seems like it would upset the delicate balance the furniture had achieved with the cramped space around it. “There’s no space other than for us to move in, and I don’t think that’s practical.” 

 

It takes them a half hour to debate out the merits of the apartment before they can come to an assent. 

 

“I honestly just liked it because it seemed like less work for you,” Jisung admits. “You don’t have to worry about furniture shopping and can just bring all your stuff here, but you’re right, there’s no space for us to bring stuff over.” 

 

“You’re right too, it  _ is  _ convenient,” Minho agrees, hands roaming over the kitchen cabinets before leaning against the counter. “I was just worried about space because you have your art stuff and I know you don’t like it when it’s all cramped up and you can’t find the thing you want.” 

 

“Not this one then,” Jisung says, smiling a little and extending a hand towards Minho. “Let’s try again tomorrow.” 

 

Minho takes his hand and presses a kiss against the back of his hand. “There was the first one this morning, right? It’s just one more day then we can make our decision.” 

 

They go back after that, the both of them nearly falling asleep and missing their stop on the subway, and they barely make it out the doors, giggling all the way. Even when they’re doing Adult Things,  _ getting an apartment together _ , Jisung never fails to make Minho feel like a teenager again. 

 

Perhaps it’s the way Jisung sprints through the streets on the way home, making Minho follow in his steps in a sudden streak of competitiveness; perhaps it’s the way Jisung smiles, big and bright and beautiful when they catch up to each other outside Minho’s apartment; perhaps it’s the way his heart thumps when Jisung hugs him close and asks to kiss him, voice low but delicate, like Minho is his everything. 

 

It isn’t until later, when they’re hip-bumping each other as they brush their teeth that Minho remembers. “Hey, are we sharing a bed?” 

 

Jisung spits in the sink and gives him a confused look. “Why wouldn’t we?” 

 

“Oh,” Minho says, feeling hot under the collar of his t-shirt. “I don’t know, I just - I know we sleep together when you come over but - it’s just -” 

 

“Aw, are you  _ shy _ , baby?” Jisung says, making a loud cooing noise, tickling Minho’s waist a little. 

 

“N - no!” Minho splutters, almost throwing his toothbrush at Jisung. “I just - sharing a bed together everyday… it feels a lot more - more like we’re… ah, I don’t know how to say it,” Minho trails off, the words mixing in his mouth, and none of them feel quite right. “I guess it feels more… domestic? Like, coming home and seeing you and having you around all the time feels… right.” 

 

It’s Jisung turn to feel hot now, but it’s not like he can  _ help  _ it, with Minho saying all these things, but he understands. “I know,” Jisung murmurs, arm sliding around Minho’s waist, “I know. It’s hard to say, but I know what you’re talking about.” Minho smiles at him through the mirror, and there’s something so soft about the happiness in his expression at this late hour with all of their fatigue.

 

“Think of it,” Minho says thoughtfully a few minutes later. “We don’t need to be cramped together in this single anymore when we get our own place. We won’t be nearly falling off the bed when we wake up.” 

 

“You say that like it isn’t an excuse to cuddle closer,” Jisung says, and true to his words, the both of them are wrapped around each other tightly so they don’t fall off the bed. (it’s happened several times, and most of the time it’s jisung because he can’t sleep still. minho laughs at him when it happens.)

 

“Shh,” Minho says, and evidently he’s starting to become sleepy, eyes closing and less chatty. “We have to be up early… night night,  _ jagiya _ .” 

 

“Good night baby,” Jisung yawns as well, and he forgets to turn the bedside lamp off before he falls asleep, but it doesn’t really matter because Minho buries his face in the crook of his shoulder, and all’s well. 

 

The next day dawns rainy, and while they hope the rain stops as they get ready, it continues to drizzle inconsistently. Minho makes the prudent decision to carry an umbrella because Jisung has no self-preservation instincts. 

 

The start of their apartment hunting is a little lacklustre as the first studio apartment they’re shown is dark and a little dingy. “The layout is… unclear,” Jisung says, because one of the bedrooms is right beside the entrance and the other next to the kitchen. 

 

“When you’re tired you can come straight through the door and collapse on the bed,” Minho says, making fun of the layout, but the agent doesn’t seem to understand his jab and spouts on about the rent and the utilities. 

 

“No thank you,” Jisung says politely to the agent. “What? No - no we don’t want - no, no, that’s fine - no, we don’t want - oh, would you look at that, we’re late to the next appointment! Thank you, goodbye.” 

 

“Slick,” Minho says as they take fast-paced towards the next apartment. They are most definitely not late, and arrive fifteen minutes earlier than they’re supposed to. 

 

“Minho, look,” Jisung says suddenly as they’re looking around the area. “There’s a grocery store over there, and the subway entrance is just over there - you can see the sign from here. It’d be really easy to come home from work and pick up groceries on the way, all the other places aren’t that close to the stores.” 

 

Minho has to wonder when they started becoming so domestic. “You’re right, it’s really close. We have to see the apartment to decide first though.” 

 

Maybe the situation of the apartment and it’s proximity to the stores and the subway station hints that this might be the place they’re looking for, because when the agent lets them into the apartment, Jisung turns to him and says, “This is it, baby.” 

 

It takes Minho a few minutes to properly take the apartment in, but he thinks Jisung is right. It’s a semi-furnished loft so there’s breathing space here, and it doesn’t take a lot of imagination for Minho to see that they could push the small sofa to the corner and create more office space. The windows, much like the other apartment they liked, stretches floor to ceiling, bringing light even to the loft upstairs though the lighting when switched on, lent a warm, cozy feeling to the apartment, a vast difference from the brightness when the windows were left open. 

 

“It is,” Minho says, almost breathless. “It’s bigger than the other one we liked and it’s only semi-furnished so we can still fill it up with our own things… we do need to buy a few new things but - Jisung, honey - this - this is it.” 

 

“You’ve never called me honey before,” Jisung mutters into his hair as he’s pulled in for a hug. 

 

“Because your words are so sweet,” Minho replies, looking out at the view of the city. The bright blue of the sky is soft through their windows, and the clouds have a pearly sheen to it. His hand itches for his camera even though he didn’t bring it with him, so he reaches for Jisung hand instead. 

 

“God, I love you,” Jisung says suddenly, sounding a little wet. Minho just smiles and presses a short kiss to his mouth. 

 

They don’t take long to visit another two apartments, and they both dull in comparison to the apartment they’ve already chosen. After they’re done and back at Minho’s place, it takes Minho ten minutes to call the agent, saying they want to rent the apartment, and soon they’ve got an appointment for the coming Tuesday where they are to sign the lease as co-tenants. 

 

“We’re moving in together,” Minho says as soon as he gets off the phone, and Jisung just pulls him in to kiss him hard. 

 

“We’re moving in together,” Jisung repeats in a low tone, like he can’t believe it, but there’s a huge smile blossoming over his face and  _ really _ , they’re moving in  _ together _ . 

 

They start preparing to move almost as soon as they sign the lease, reading over the agreement with an almost anxious air, taking the terms and conditions in slowly and carefully. Minho hands his notice in to his current, very friendly landlord and gets stalled in an hour-long conversation of why he’s moving and it’s not until Minho shyly reveals that he’s moving in with his boyfriend that he’s let go. 

 

“You know, we need to go furniture shopping,” Jisung says vaguely when he’s sitting on Minho’s bedroom floor two weeks later. “We need a bed,” He elaborates when Minho looks at him quizzically. 

 

They go shopping a few days later, fretting about measurements and fitting the bed frame in the elevator and through the doorway, all the while packing their things up slowly. As it turns out, they have a lot of each other clothes. 

 

“I found your white hoodie,” Minho offers sheepishly one evening when they’re video-calling. “It was stashed in the back of my closet.” 

 

Jisung can only laugh. “I found two of your sweatpants over here. I don’t think we need separate closets at this rate.” 

 

In the midst of their packing and rush to move out in time, Jisung’s graduated, finished his course, but the ceremony isn’t until after they move into their new place. Jisung had gone out with his friends from university as a celebration, but Minho insisted they should celebrate it as well. 

 

“You’ve graduated, Jisungie!” Minho cries. “This is amazing! We should go out for dinner - or do you wanna go watch a movie? Actually, you should come up with something you wanna do, this is your shining moment - oh, you said you wanted to go to the cat cafe right?” Minho continues rambling on about date ideas, and Jisung can only look at him fondly. 

 

“Thank you, baby,” Jisung says once Minho’s spiel is finished. “But I’d love it just being with you, it doesn’t matter what we’re doing.” 

 

Minho softens at that, his bright energy mellowing into something calmer. “I know, but I’m just proud of you,  _ jagiya _ . I’ve known you for half your university life and I’ve seen you stressed out about your exhibition pieces and your finals, I’m proud that you made it and you’re graduating!” There’s fondness inked in the crease of his eyes and the quirk of his lips and the gentle grasp of his hand on Jisung’s wrist, and Jisung’s heart is going to burst. 

 

“Thank you,” Jisung says, voice lilting with emotion, and it’s such a common word but it’s all he can say, all he can express. Minho had taught him how to love, how to be loved, he had learned to be brave and had learned to wait, and all he can say is  _ thank you _ but he hopes that Minho knows it’s more than just thank you. 

 

“I love you,” Minho says quietly, curling a hand around Jisung’s waist, “That’s nothing to thank me for.” He says this, but when Jisung looks into his eyes, the warm brown depth of it that burns like a woodfire in the middle of winter, he thinks Minho knows. 

 

“I love you too,” Jisung murmurs, and the night burns brightly around them, for them. 

 

* * *

 

The day of moving into their new apartment draws ever closer, and the both of them rope their friends into helping them move some of the smaller stuff, like boxes. 

 

“I thought you wanted us to move your whole sofa or something,” Felix says and almost gets a plastic bag thrown in his face for his comment. 

 

“Why’d you feel the need to specify ‘whole’?” Hyunjin asks. “Wait, never mind, don’t answer, I don’t wanna know.” 

 

“I feel like we’re being run over by children,” Chan observes thoughtfully. Woojin is doing something in a set of kitchen cupboards that neither Minho nor Chan have touched in three months. 

 

“Wait till Jisung’s friends come over then make your final verdict,” Minho says cryptically. He’s surveying the apartment, and while it’s furnished, it looks decidedly bare. Gone are the blankets he and Chan always drape over the couch, the kitchen has been cleared, there are boxes piled near the door and his room is barren bar for the pre-existing furniture. 

 

“Can’t believe you’re leaving,” Chan sighs, even though he’s the one who wanted to move out in the first place. 

 

“You’re moving out next week,” Minho points out. 

 

“Touché, but today’s your day.” 

 

Right on cue, a series of knocks barrage the door and Hyunjin barely opens the door in time before Jisung and three other people fall through the doorway, still squabbling even though they’re tumbling all over each other. 

 

“We’re treating you to dinner after you help us,” Jisung says, sounding outraged. “This isn’t free labour, we’re  _ paying you back _ to help us!” 

 

“Well you never  _ said  _ that,” Changbin grumbles. 

 

“I never  _ asked _ you to help, you  _ volunteered _ .” 

 

“Sorry,” One of Jisung’s friends says sheepishly. “They’re always like this. I’m Kim Seungmin - hey, Hyunjin? What’re you - Felix?” 

 

“Seungminnie!” Felix says, and then the three of them are locked in a hug, chattering away. 

 

“We know Minho-hyung because we use the same studio,” Hyunjin explains. “You know Jisung from university?”

 

“Yeah!” Seungmin says, and then gestures towards the last person in the room. “That’s Jeongin, he’s from my university too, he’s a year younger than us.” 

 

The fact that some of them already know each other means that they aren’t as awkward as Minho had anticipated, and there’s a nice chatter filling the atmosphere before Jisung breaks it, looking a little worried once he’s checked the time. 

 

“I think we should start moving some stuff out. Can some of you take the boxes down to Minho’s car? The things that are in bags we can take by the subway, but boxes should go in the car. And… baby, when’s the moving company coming?” 

 

“In twenty minutes,” Minho says, having double and triple-checked with the company as to when they would arrive. “We have enough time to sort out what to take this first trip in the car.” They had agreed that it would be easier to take the bulk of the stuff via multiple car trips, and anything they needed to use immediately at the new place was packed in bags for easy access. 

 

“Don’t forget, you can use my car too,” Chan says. “That way it’s faster and you don’t need to make so many trips. It takes about fifteen minutes by car, right?” 

 

Minho nods. “You have the address, and I don’t think you can miss it anyway. Let’s go!” 

 

They get off to a slightly fumbly start, because most of them don’t know where the parking is and where Minho and Chan’s car are, but that’s solved fast, and soon most of the boxes are loaded into the two cars, just in time as the moving company arrived. 

 

The workers make quick work of the large stuff they’re moving, the chairs and tables and some light fixtures; Minho checks with them that they’ve moved the bedframe and mattress to the new place before driving off, and then Jisung’s left to organise the rest of them to take the subway with the bags that are admittedly, just a few and not many at all. 

 

“Go with Woojin-hyung,” Jisung says finally. “He knows the way to the apartment, so you guys will be fine with him. I need to stay here to check if Minho left anything before I go back to my dorm to pick up some stuff for the workers to move.” He manages to swipe some towels and shirts that hadn’t been folded after laundry, and he leaves them on top of the rest of the boxes with a text to Minho that he’s heading to his dorm for the rest of his stuff. 

 

[15:06] okay, i’ve just arrived at the new place, we’re unloading the stuff 

 

[15:06] i’m actually so glad we asked to get rid of some of the furnishings 

 

[15:07] be careful when moving your stuff okay 

 

[15:07] i’ll see you at home :’)

 

[15:19]  _ ‘My baby <3’ sent you a photo _

 

[15:19] they assembled the table the wrong way while i was talking to the movers 

 

Jisung laughs at the photo of the desk that honestly looks more like a deformed chair and makes a final check around his dorm room before taking the stairs down quickly. He bids a few of his friends goodbye - he’s sure he’ll see them at the graduation ceremony, and besides, they just went out for drinks the other day - before making a beeline for the subway, backpack and a carrier bag weighing his steps down a little. 

 

The subway ride is filled with texting Minho about where to put the furniture and their friends, who seem to find everything about their new place interesting and are threatening to become too loud. Minho is waiting for him to get to the apartment before he makes a final trip back to his old place to pick up the rest of the boxes and so Jisung breaks into a tiny jog as he steps off the subway. 

 

The door to their apartment is open and he’s met with a curious mix of calamity and order as he enters. It’s messy but there seems to be a direction to the mess - Felix’s storing a spread of food stuff into the cabinets and fridge; Changbin and Chan are trying to salvage the same table Jisung had seen an hour ago and seem to be making slightly better progress; Jeongin’s helping Woojin to push the sofa into a corner of the living area so there’s more space to walk around the boxes haphazardly dumped in the space available. 

 

“You’re here,” Chan says, seeing him taking everything in. “Minho’s upstairs, I think he’s been waiting for you to come.” 

 

“Thanks, hyung!” Jisung calls, depositing his bags with the boxes in the living area and making his way upstairs. 

 

“You’re here!” Minho says as soon as he takes the final step into the loft area. “Jisungie, look at this!” He’s pointing excitedly at the bedframe and the mattress that had been loaded onto it. Beside him, a bookshelf looms and there are bags sprawled everywhere, looking like it contained their clothing and some toiletries. 

 

“This is great,” Jisung says, smiling and giving Minho a small peck on his cheek. “You’re going back to get the last of the boxes right?” 

 

“Yep. Seungmin and Hyunjin are going with me too, so I’ll have some help. Also, please get that table they’re working on sorted,  _ jagiya _ ? They’ve been at it since we arrived and they’re not getting anywhere.” 

 

“Got it. Take care while driving, baby, and don’t rush, yeah?” 

 

“See you in a while then!” 

 

Minho leaves with Seungmin and Hyunjin in a flurry, and Jisung decides he can sort out the state of their bed and clothes later. He heads downstairs to find Woojin, Felix and Jeongin done and ambling around as Chan and Changbin finally use the instruction sheet to put the table together. 

 

“All the food items are put away,” Felix informs Jisung over the din of them trying to put the table together. “You still need quite a bit of groceries, though. You’re sure you don’t want help to unpack the boxes?” 

 

“I think we packed the boxes to be unpacked in certain areas,” Jisung replies once he’s convinced Changbin that one of the table legs in fact belonged somewhere else. “So it’s fine, you’ve already been such a huge help today. Unless you wanna hang around, you guys can go back now and we can meet up at the restaurant later.”

 

“Just in time then,” Jeongin says, beaming. “I need to meet up with someone, it’s fine if I go now, yeah?” 

 

“Sure!” Jisung says, then adds, “Make sure to come later okay?” 

 

He receives an affirmative yell, and ten minutes later, Felix says he’ll meet up with Hyunjin and Seungmin at the subway station, because Minho’s insisted he didn’t need any more help. Chan and Woojin leave together not long after that because they need to go to the bank for an appointment, and the apartment settles into its first quiet since they started moving in at noon.

 

“We’re finally done,” Changbin groans, sitting back and looking at the completed table. 

 

“That’s because neither of you read the damn instructions,” Jisung grumbles. “Hyung, help me move this upstairs.” 

 

“... Why didn’t we just assemble it  _ upstairs _ ?” 

 

“Oh, shut up, hyung.” 

 

They’ve just managed to get the desk upstairs - after much complaining and bruised hips - when Jisung’s phone starts ringing. 

 

“ _ Jisungie _ ?  _ I’m outside, can you come help bring the boxes up _ ?” 

 

“I’m coming,” Jisung says, running downstairs and slipping his shoes on. “It’s also just Changbin-hyung left now, but I don’t think we need any more help for now right?”

 

“ _ Nah, I don’t think so. We’re already done, we just need to unpack the stuff now _ .” 

 

“Gotcha, I’m coming down now.” 

 

It takes another half an hour to bring all the boxes up in several trips, and when they’re finally done, it’s close to six in the evening and they’re both utterly exhausted. Their living room is stacked with boxes, some of which belong upstairs, and the place still looks barren and smells new, and it’ll take a little while before it can come close to being their home. 

 

“Maybe we should get dinner another day,” Changbin offers as he gets ready to leave. “You guys look exhausted, and I’m sure the rest will understand if you postpone the dinner.” 

 

It only takes an exchanged glance between them to settle. “Sure, that sounds great, actually. Hyung, can you help us text them? And thank you for today, by the way, you really didn’t need to stay so late.” 

 

Changbin waves a hand. “It’s fine, I didn’t have much to do today anyway. Tell us when you wanna get dinner, okay?” He pauses at the doorway as he goes to leave, and then there’s a smile hung lopsided on his mouth as he says, “Congratulations to you two, by the way.” He leaves after that, and Minho just laughs, too drained to do anything else. 

 

“Congratulations to us indeed,” Minho murmurs. “I’m never driving ever again in my life. Or lifting anything else.” 

 

“Too bad, sweetheart,” Jisung drawls, grabbing Minho’s hand to make him stand from where he’s slumped on the couch. “We need to move some of these boxes upstairs and start unpacking so we can actually rest tonight, so it’s still work time.” 

 

Minho sighs, moving towards the boxes with a resigned air. “Fine, but at least turn the radio on or put some music on, why don’t you? It’s so quiet after everyone left.” 

 

The radio was one of the first things they unpacked from a box as it turned out, so Jisung plugs it into an outlet and lets the commentator’s voice drone out and fill in the silence. They start sorting out what boxes belong where from the mess font scribbled onto the tops, and it’s to the beat of an overplayed pop song that they move boxes upstairs and start unpacking the first of Jisung’s art tools. 

 

“Your easels and stuff can go there,” Minho says, waving a hand at niche in the corner of the room. And the rest of your supplies can take that whole cupboard.” 

 

“Right so… your photography stuff is… oh - is it this one, nearer the kitchen? I’ll put this here, okay?” 

 

The process of them unpacking and sorting out their stuff takes up most of the night, but most of the boxes are emptied by the time night falls and settles in, and all they have left to do is tackle the few boxes and bags upstairs before they can call it a day. The living area is a mess and they still have to sort out the placement of several things, but it’s clean enough that they migrate upstairs, and it takes everything in Jisung to not just collapse on the bed. 

 

“Hey, hey!” Minho complains, pulling Jisung away from the bed. “Let’s at least get our pajamas and toiletries out before you fall asleep. We need to make the bed too, we can’t sleep like that.” 

 

It takes a few long minutes for Minho to persuade Jisung into remembering where he packed his pajamas, but they eventually find them and Minho sends Jisung down to shower first, choosing to make the bed so Jisung can come back and fall asleep. He barely manages to slide the pillow cases on and smooth the duvet over before Jisung stumbles back upstairs, hair wet and already half-asleep. 

 

“Sleep,  _ jagiya _ ,” Minho says sweetly, pressing a fond kiss to the apple of Jisung’s cheek. “I’ll go shower and come back, you sleep first, okay?” 

 

Jisung just hums and sits on the bed looking bleary-eyed. 

 

As Minho descends, the radio starts blaring static instead, and Minho snorts. He turns the volume down so it won’t disturb Jisung and taps it a few times, hoping the station will come back, and hops into the shower. The hot water feels nice on his sore muscles, and he spends more time standing blank-thought in the hot water than actually showering, and it’s only when he remembers that hot water  _ costs _ that he turns the shower off hurriedly and dries off. 

 

When he goes back upstairs, he takes care to be quiet, but he’s surprised to find Jisung crouched down, inspecting some boxes and looking through some stuff. 

 

“Jisungie? I thought you’d be asleep.” 

 

“Wanted to wait for you,” Jisung says simply. “Also, we forgot we had more stuff in the kitchen. We need to bring some of our books up here as well, there’s one shelf here and one downstairs.” 

 

“Worry about that tomorrow,” Minho says amusedly. “Aren’t you tired,  _ jagiya _ ? I’ve already made the bed, let’s sleep…” 

 

“Just a moment,” Jisung mutters, then he makes his way over to Minho, pulling the both of them down onto the plush bed. Minho laughs a little, craning his neck, and Jisung obliges, pressing their mouths together.

 

The radio crackles a little in the still night air, and the day’s exhaustion starts to settle heavily over the both of them. It’s quiet yet, as the radio downstairs continues to decide on it’s mind, but for them, the peace is welcomed with the events of the day, and Jisung almost falls asleep like that, nestled close to Minho, their limbs tangled together on their softly-made bed, exhaustion a blanket over the both of them. The radio crackles a little while more, then the opening chords of ‘Can I Have This Dance’ starts playing softly, just barely audible, and Jisung feels Minho shift a little next to him.

 

“High School Musical,” Jisung murmurs, opening his eyes to look at Minho, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. 

 

“Yeah,” Minho breathes, turning more onto his side so he can look back at Jisung properly. There’s a small smile curving the corner of his lips up, and his eyes have the tiniest sparkle in them and Jisung can see he wants. 

 

“C’mon then,” Jisung says, standing up and taking Minho with him, their feet sliding over the wooden floors. Minho stumbles a little, shocked from the sudden movement, but then he’s smiling, laughing, when Jisung laces their fingers together and pulls him close, knocking his foot a little to start an impromptu waltz. 

 

“What - what’s - what’re we doing?” Minho asks, laughing, trying to get his feet to coordinate. He accidentally steps on Jisung’s foot when they both step forward, and he giggles, squeaking out a small apology. 

 

“Dancing,” Jisung says simply. “You wanted to dance.” 

 

Minho smiles at that, all eyes and cheeks and  _ happiness _ and Jisung thinks he’d dance with Minho every single day for the rest of his life just to see that smile again, thinks he’d go through this kind of exhaustion for the rest of his days if he can come home to this smile, thinks he’s never made a better decision than choosing to love Minho and choosing to stay and choosing to work on them, and he’s found a home in the shape of Minho’s love. 

 

That night, they sleep on a large bed together for the first time and there’s no real need to squeeze so closely together, but old habits die hard, and they end up tangled with each other anyway, pressed so tightly against each other that they’re sharing warmth. 

 

They prefer it this way, anyway. 

 

* * *

 

The following days are a whirl of unpacking and getting groceries, finely balanced in between Minho going to work and Jisung needing to start preparing to start at his new job. They survive on a lot of takeout before Minho decides one afternoon that they need actual nutrition and starts cooking some sort of soup and works on fried rice while Jisung sorts their clothes out upstairs. It’s simple but it’s their first home cooked meal they have had since moving in, and the smell of the food permeates throughout the apartment, making it feel a little more like home. 

 

They go out with their friends on one of the days, and they treat them to dinner like they promised, laughing and chatting over grilled meat and soda. It’s neon lights and karaoke music, and it’s so nice to have their friends together like that that they return home high on the buzz of friendship and laugh in the warmth of their new home.

 

Now, Jisung’s art stuff is located in one cupboard and Minho’s photograph stuff is in another, with the larger items tucked away in a corner of the room behind the sofa. The bookshelf is filled in and the boxes dismantled and taken to recycling, their clothes are stashed away and hung up, everything is almost done and the apartment feels more lived in. 

 

Perhaps the moment when it feels most like home is when Minho returns home from work in the evenings, throwing open the door and calling out that he’s back, and Jisung gets up to greet him, kissing him and asking about his day. It feels so awfully domestic, and part of Jisung can’t believe that this is his reality now, that they’ve actually moved in together.

 

It’s a week later that they have to go to Jisung’s graduation ceremony, and Minho’s fretting about meeting his parents at said ceremony. 

 

“They love you,” Jisung says firmly. “I’ve told them all about you and they love you. They’re dying to meet you, baby, so don’t worry too much about it.” 

 

“Easy for you to say,” Minho says under his breath, though he kisses Jisung anyway. 

 

It’s a longer drive from their new apartment to Jisung’s university, but Jisung visibly lights up when they pull in and he sees some of his friends, and Minho would easily drive a thousand more miles to make Jisung happy. He doesn’t know many of Jisung’s friends apart from Hyunjin, Felix and Seungmin, and he gets to meet Jisung’s parents before the ceremony starts. 

 

They’re sweet and nothing but nice to him, and his nerves are set at ease as he starts to talk to them. They ask about his job and how he got to know Jisung, and he thinks he gushes a little bit too much about Jisung because when Jisung comes to find them, his  _ eomma _ tells Jisung that he’s been spouting non-stop praises. 

 

“Your boyfriend’s been talking of you and nothing else,” She says, a twinkle in her eyes that’s so incredibly reminiscent of Jisung. “It reminds me of how you talk of nothing but him when you come back to visit us.” 

 

“ _ Eomma _ !” Jisung says, flustered, but Minho laughs, finding him cute. “You shouldn’t be supporting her,” Jisung pouts, batting at MInho’s arm, “Baby!  _ Don’t  _ support her, do  _ not _ .” 

 

“But you’re cute,  _ jagiya _ ,” Minho says, voice on the edge of cooing, and their display of affection doesn’t go unnoticed by Jisung’s presents. 

 

“You really found a good boyfriend,” Jisung’s  _ appa _ says warmly, patting Minho’s shoulder. “Take care of our Jisungie, won’t you, Minho?” 

 

“Of course,” Minho says, smiling. “I love him, of course I will.” He’s pulled into a hug with Jisung’s  _ eomma _ and pretends his cheeks aren’t flushed after saying that. 

 

“I’ll have  _ my _ boyfriend back, thank you very much,” Jisung grumbles a little, but hugs his parents anyway and kisses them. “You guys know where your seats are, right? I have to go soon.” They affirm that they do and he runs off, not without giving Minho a kiss, and perhaps he has starry eyes as he watches Jisung dash off into the crowd, because Jisung’s parents point it out and tease him about it. 

 

The graduation ceremony is tear-jerking, with several students giving speeches, and Jisung’s parents record all the moments that Jisung is on stage. Minho’s brought his own camera, and he thinks he takes enough photos to fill a gallery because he can’t help but raise his camera every time he spots Jisung. 

 

It takes a little over three hours, but the ceremony is finally done and the crowd breaks up into little groups as the day starts inching into the evening. Jisung’s parents bid him goodbye after a lengthy conversation involving their new apartment and Jisung’s new job as a graphic designer and remind them to visit when they have time, and then there’s maybe an hour left before the graduation ball is due to start. 

 

“I shouldn’t be drinking,” Minho says as they sit at a bench in one of the campus squares. “I have to drive us back, so you go have fun tonight, yeah?” 

 

Jisung shrugs. “I might, but I think we can go home after I find a few friends. The balls aren’t all that fun, not compared to prom.” He’s holding Minho’s hand as he says this, absent-mindedly drawing meaningless patterns on the back of Minho’s hand, and it’s so incredibly soothing. 

 

“Go have fun then,  _ jagiya _ ,” Minho urges gently. “Dance a little or just find some friends to talk, unwind and relax. It’s your graduation ball, it’s your time to have fun after three years.” 

 

Jisung smiles at that and lifts Minho’s hand to kiss it. “Then I will.” 

 

When the ball starts, Minho settles into a table and steals a glass of punch, waving vaguely to Jisung who disappears to find his friends, and entertains himself by watching other people. There are other people who, like him, are sitting at tables and people-watching, so he assumes that they’re probably the significant others of some of the students. Hyunjin and Seungmin swing by every now and then to chat with him, and Jisung comes back twice to kiss him and ask if he’s okay. 

 

This time, it’s Felix that collapses into the seat next to him, a little sweaty and flushed. “Hey, hyung.”

 

“Hey, Lix. How’s the ball?” 

 

“It’s great,” Felix says, “But you know what’s greater? Someone spiked the punch and Jisung’s very drunk right now.” 

 

Minho almost stands up. “He’s  _ what _ ?” 

 

“Oh, don’t worry, hyung. He’s drunk but he’s just trying to find you, and we’re finding it funny.” Felix suppresses a laugh at a memory and Minho hopes Jisung isn’t shredding his reputation into pieces. “Here he comes, hyung, brace yourself.” 

 

“Minho?” Jisung asks, his words a little slurred as he approaches them. He’s not stumbling but his cheeks are flushed, so Minho assumes he’s comfortably drunk. 

 

“Jisungie? You -”

 

“ _ Baby _ ,” Jisung interrupts with a louder voice, and a few of Jisung’s friends - including Hyunjin and Seungmin - break away from the crowd to come find them. “You’re gorgeous,” Jisung hiccups, dropping into the seat in front of Minho, “You’re so beautiful. I - are you single?” 

 

Minho thinks he’s blushing but he’s got bigger problems. “Jisung? Did you get drunk or your memories wiped?” 

 

“You’re so  _ beautiful _ ,” Jisung bursts out. “Oh, my god, am I in heaven? Why are you so beautiful? Please tell me you’re single.”

 

“I - thank you but - but I’m not,” Minho stutters out to the background of JIsung’s friends giggling and whipping out their phones to presumably put this on snapchat. 

 

“You’re not?” Jisung gasps, looking utterly devastated. A few people start laughing. “That’s - no…  _ I  _ wanted to date you, you’re so - so  _ pretty _ .” He pouts a little, then he’s looking up into Minho’s eyes and continuing, “Well, I hope whoever you’re dating takes care of you… kisses you in the morning… cooks for you… tells you your eyes are pretty… takes you out for dates…” He trails off after that, looking sad, and Minho thinks his heart is going to burst. 

 

“Well, you better do all of that for me when you’re sober, because we’re dating, Jisungie.” 

 

Jisung gapes at him. “We’re  _ dating _ ? We’re boyfriends?” 

 

Minho smiles. “Yeah, we are.” 

 

Jisung groans and lets his head fall onto the table. “I lucked out,” He whispers, “I lucked out, I really did.” He looks up once again and gives Minho a huge smile, all alcohol-spiked and genuine affection and Minho thinks it’s time to go home. He doesn’t know how he manages to haul Jisung into the car and then into their apartment, but he manages, coaxing Jisung to brush his teeth, change his clothes and drink enough water so Jisung won’t have too bad of a hangover the next morning. 

 

“Are we really dating?” Jisung whispers later that night when they’re cuddled up in bed and the alcohol is evidently still running through his system. 

 

“Yes,” Minho says, running his fingers through Jisung’s hair and mussing the strands up. “You might not remember right now, but we celebrated our one year anniversary just a few months ago, in April. We went for dinner, and we watched a movie at our old place too. Do you remember that, Jisungie?” 

 

“Mm,” Jisung says, then he falls asleep, and Minho just laughs, stroking Jisung’s cheek before settling onto the bed and getting ready to fall asleep himself. He thinks he imagines it, but there’s the faintest brush of something - a hand, or maybe lips - over his mouth, and he feels a lot warmer suddenly, and it’s all he needs to lull him asleep. 

 

Jisung wakes up the next morning to a dry mouth and a pain in his head that he can’t quite reach, and for a moment he doesn’t recognise where he is - this isn’t Minho’s apartment, isn’t his dorm - then he sees Minho, nestled up next to him, and all the memories start flooding back. The graduation ceremony, Minho meeting his parents, the ball, the spiked punch, him flirting with Minho… Jisung closes his eyes again and tries not to let the second-hand embarrassment wash over him. 

 

When he opens his eyes again, he’s flooded with the sight of Minho still sleeping, but the golden beams of sunlight shining in through their huge windows and shrouding over them, casting Minho’s skin golden and creating shadows through his long eyelashes and curve of his nose. It’s warm as the sun rises, and there’s gold, yellow and browns thrown everywhere he looks, and if he had a brush he’d try to get this scene inked down on paper. 

 

Yet, he doesn’t, and his alcohol-dulled memory will have to suffice for now. Perhaps he makes some noise as he moves a little to look at Minho, because Minho’s eyelashes start fluttering, and there’s a yawn stretching his mouth wide open. 

 

“... Sungie?” Minho murmurs blearily and opening his eyes just a smidge.

 

“Morning, baby,” Jisung says fondly, voice still rough from sleep, and presses a kiss to Minho’s forehead. “Go back to sleep, you must be tired.” 

 

Minho yawns again but shakes his head. “‘M hungry, let’s nap again later.” Still, it takes a while for him to actually get out of bed, and it’s only when Jisung threatens to kiss him with his morning breath that Minho gets up and lets himself be dragged downstairs to the bathroom. 

 

Jisung squeezes out toothpaste for him and he nearly falls asleep brushing his teeth. As he spits and rinses, he starts to wake up more, and it’s only when Jisung squints at the bright lights that he remembers Jisung was drunk last night. 

 

“How’s your headache? Do you have a hangover? I made you drink a lot of water last night, you shouldn’t be feeling too bad…” 

 

“Thank you for taking care of me, baby,” Jisung says, and he’s pouring out two bowls of cereal. “I don’t feel too bad but… how embarrassing was I last night?”

 

“You asked me if I was single and cried when I said I wasn’t,” Minho says, the memory more funny than embarrassing. “It was kinda cute, but your friends would probably find it cringey.” He accepts the bowl of cereal and kisses Jisung’s cheek in thanks. 

 

“I’m never drinking again, I swear,” Jisung says, messily shoving a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. 

 

“You’ve got milk there,” Minho says, swiping at Jisung’s mouth. “Do you wanna go out today or just stay in? We’ve got some leftover food from the last time we cooked and if you’re still tired we can go back to nap. What do you wanna do?” 

 

“Staying in sounds good,” Jisung agrees. “Do you wanna do the dishes or the laundry? The basket is full.” 

 

Minho hums. “Anything, really.” 

 

“You do the dishes, then,” Jisung says. “You need to rest after taking care of me.” MInho just smiles and kisses him lazily, slowly, feeling like warmth and sunshine against his mouth, and Jisung thinks he could get used to this for the rest of his life. 

 

They’re getting so domestic, Jisung realises when he’s loading the laundry. The thought warms his heart and makes his insides fuzzy with affection, heart clenching with how domestic they actually are. Minho’s waiting for him on the small sofa when he finishes with the laundry, and his sleepy smile and grabby arms makes Jisung sink right into his arms, pressing a kiss behind Minho’s ear as he does so, and god, he’s so in love with the way Minho giggles at that. 

 

“Love you, Minho, baby,” Jisung whispers, looking into the depth of Minho’s eyes. 

 

“Love you too, Jisungie,” Minho says, a soft smile curling onto his lips. 

 

Jisung’s so, so in love, and when he looks into the encompassing warmth of Minho’s brown eyes, he sees love reflected in the golden flakes with the bright sunshine; he sees adoration traced in the dark ring of his iris; most of all, he seems home, inked in the steady brown that is Minho, and it is warm, and it is comfortable, and this, Jisung thinks, is what it feels like to come home to someone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: i have no idea how jobs work or anything im making shit up as we go :')
> 
> tried my best to make the apartment hunting part not dry and actually interesting with some character profile but,,, tell me what you think sgskdgdg and well personally i CANNOT believe im here halfway mark with u guys and minsung moving in together like gotdamn Adults i want to cry so share ur tears with me :')
> 
> also yes i realise this chapter is longer than last one but they went house hounting and Moved and jisung Graduated and my word count went higher than expected oops but apart from that i hope this was okay!! come tell me what colour you think next month will be!! hint: it's warm <3


	7. Yellow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I like yellow.” 
> 
> “Yeah?”
> 
> “Yeah! Yellow is bright, and it’s the colour of the sun and a lot of flowers and it’s such a happy colour. It brightens everything up.”
> 
> “Then you’re my yellow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this update and the next 2 updates are all art related so :>>> we're really going back to 'paint me' now!!! this chapter is.... really sweet. it's ridiculous stupid fluff they're so in love you'd probably call the cops on them if you ever saw them in public so fair warning if ur lactose intolerent (like me!) bc this chapter is very cheesy uwu
> 
> anyway it's july and i thought i wouldnt get this out in time but surprise i forgot july had 31 days hahahhaha hgsnd i hope you enjoy this, as always!!!!

 

 _because you are my happiness_  
_because you are my love_  
 _because you are my everything_  
 _you are my yellow_

* * *

 

For the third time that week, Jisung finds himself alone in their apartment at night. It’s just struck nine, and yet Minho’s not home despite the late hour. Beside Jisung, his phone is left open on the chat he has with Minho, with the last message from him being _I’ll be home late again_ , _don’t stay up okay!! I love you <3 _ and Jisung had accepted it. It didn’t mean he had to be happy about it though. 

 

Minho had been coming home later and later more and more often this month, and Jisung’s worried out of his mind. The paleness of Minho’s face, the dark eye bags, his ever-present fatigue - Jisung’s noticed all of these, and his heart _hurts_ with how tired Minho looks when he does come home on time. More often than not now, he feels Minho climb into bed with him, near midnight, and he regularly has to shake Minho awake in the mornings so they can both get to work on time. 

 

The clock reads half past nine now, and Jisung knows he has to do something. 

 

It’s Friday tonight, so Jisung can stay up late, and he’s willing to stay up till whenever Minho comes home. He settles back into the couch and picks up his phone to toy with it idly, scrolling through Instagram before replying to some messages he had forgotten about, and he’s halfway through watching a random video on Youtube before the key jingles in the lock and the door is opening. 

 

“I’m home,” Minho calls softly, not expecting anyone to be awake, and he’s stunned into freezing when he sees Jisung still on the couch. “ _Jagiya_? Why are you still up? It’s so late…” 

 

Jisung throws his phone aside. “Says you? You came home late again, baby, you must be exhausted.” 

 

Minho sighs and sinks into Jisung’s arms, arms weary from heaving cameras and photography equipment all day. “I am… this season is ridiculous, we’ve never had so many idols come in for shoots before.” 

 

“Season?” Jisung echoes, helping Minho put his stuff away and shuffling him to sit at the bar counter, heating some leftover food. 

 

“Yeah, season,” Minho says, dropping his head on the counter like he’s about to fall asleep any moment soon. “Nylon has certain seasons where we’re really busy, and this autumn we’re really, really busy. The uppers booked a lot of idols and idol groups and now we’re swamped. There isn’t enough staff to go around so there are more shoots within a day and I need to stay back to help… I suppose it’s better than being the photographer and having to take the shots though.” Minho yawns and tries not to fall asleep as the microwave beeps loudly and suddenly. 

 

“Is the season going to be very long?” Jisung asks apprehensively, “You’re so tired and you come home so late, surely it isn’t gonna go on for long.” 

 

“Just one more week,” Minho promises, looking up and reading the worry in the crease of Jisung’s brow. “Just one more week of running around like a headless duck and then I’m back to my normal working hours.” He swallows a few spoonfuls of fried rice to appease Jisung, decides he’s hungry, then cleans off the entire container. 

 

Jisung doesn’t hide his pleasure. “We can do one week,” He says, pressing a kiss to the top of Minho’s forehead. “Are you going to be busy this weekend as well? Or can you rest?” 

 

“Just some calls to make,” Minho says, managing a small, tired smile. “And I’m all yours.” 

 

“Mine or not,” Jisung says, herding Minho into the bathroom, “you need to _sleep_. Now get ready for bed before I knock you out.” 

 

“Knock out my superiors,” Minho scowls, but disappears into the bathroom to take a shower anyway. 

 

When he comes out of the shower ten minutes later, there’s a big shirt and sweatpants sitting on the sink counter, and he can’t help but smile a little. The lights outside are all turned off bar from the lamp in the living room, and Jisung’s waiting for him with two mugs of hot chocolate in the kitchen. 

 

“Drink up and let’s go to sleep,” Jisung says softly, their hands coming to intertwine together on top of the kitchen counter. The hot chocolate is more warming than it is sweet, and it makes Minho drowsy with the combination of the warm water of his shower, and by the time he finishes the drink, he’s almost asleep on his feet. 

 

“Go to bed,” Jisung fusses, seemingly having the time of his life babying Minho, “I’ll wash this up.” 

 

Minho holds onto his hand for a little longer. “You’ll come up, yeah?” 

 

Jisung smiles at that and squeezes Minho’s hand. “Of course.” 

 

Once in the bed, Minho tries his best to stay awake, but the exhaustion from working long hours, plus the warmth that’s been kindled in him along with the softness of the sheets are hard to resist, and so he’s only vaguely aware of the dim of the lights and the dip of the bed next to him, and if there’s a kiss to his cheek and an arm that settles over his waist, he doesn’t register that. 

 

He just knows that it’s warm, and he’s tired, and sleep comes to him quickly and easily. It’s easily the best sleep he’s had in a while, and - well, he doesn’t remember much, which attests for what it will. 

 

Minho wakes to the feeling of his hair being played with and a flurry of tickling kisses against his neck, and when he opens his eyes he’s giggling as well. 

 

“Good morning,” Jisung says quietly, hair an absolute mess and cheeks puffy, but the sun’s streaming gold onto his hair and skin and Minho doesn’t know what good he’s done to be able to wake up to this view. “Slept well?” 

 

“Morning,” Minho says as well, still smiling, “really good. Really, really good. You?” 

 

“I always sleep well when I’m with you,” Jisung says easily, ducking down to press a kiss to Minho’s cheek, seeping with affection. “What do you want for breakfast?” 

 

Minho hums, stretching and batting Jisung’s hand away when he comes for his waist, intending to tickle. “Why don’t we go for brunch? That little cafe around the corner… you like their pancakes, don’t you?” 

 

“Race you to the bathroom!” 

 

There’s a flurry of movement that ends up with them almost becoming tangled in the duvet, but they end up standing hip to hip and brushing their teeth, and there’s no better way to start a Saturday morning. By the time they’ve finished dressing and are ready to go, it’s almost eleven, having been messing around the whole time they were getting ready. 

 

“Let’s go!” Minho says cheerfully, feeling more upbeat than he had been since the season started. They’re holding hands as the stroll the streets, the sunshine beating down on them as they make their way to the cafe, and it warms Minho’s hair and his arms, but Jisung looks radiant in the sun and Minho can’t help himself. 

 

“I thought you were off your job?” Jisung asks teasingly as Minho snaps a few photos of him using his phone. 

 

“You look pretty,” Minho says, shrugging and pocketing his phone again. 

 

“You must have enough photos of me to fill a gallery,” Jisung says, sounding like he’s complaining but there’s a smile on his face. “Oh no, I was joking, do _not_ do that.” 

 

“I won’t… for now,” Minho says, because Jisung’s not wrong. He _does_ have a gallery dedicated to Jisung’s photos only, and another one that are his favourites of Jisung’s photos, but Jisung doesn’t need to know that. Or maybe he already does, because he’s found Jisung going through his gallery several times and fixing him with a judgemental glare every time. 

 

“Well, if you do, I’m charging you,” Jisung says a matter-of-factly, “my beauty isn’t free.” 

 

“Not even for your boyfriend?” 

 

“Actually, now that you’ve said it, double the price.” 

 

“Hey!” Then Minho chases Jisung into the cafe and they’re both a little out of breath as they approach the counter, giggling like they’re teenagers. 

 

“Go on, get a table, I’ll order for us,” Jisung urges, and Minho narrows his eyes. 

 

“Are you trying to pay again? You paid the last time we went on a date! It’s my turn to pay!” 

 

“Too bad,” Jisung says, pulling a face and turning to the cashier, leaving Minho to sigh and go find a table. It takes a while for Jisung to come back, and Minho spends it fruitfully by planning how to repay Jisung, which includes the options of either buying Jisung’s favourite snacks or cooking something, and by the time Jisung returns, he’s made up his mind. 

 

“Food’s coming, I got your favourite,” Jisung says as he slides into the seat opposite Minho, the sun shining in through the glass and tinting his hair golden and brown. 

 

“Thanks, _jagiya_.” Minho wisely decides not to mention that he’ll be cooking Jisung’s favourite dishes tomorrow, or Jisung will try to repay his repayment by buying a slice of cake or something (because they’ve got a long running joke between them that they should be repaying each other when they had agreed that they won’t). 

 

In the time that it takes for the food to come, Minho manages to spill all his stress to Jisung about work, and in return Jisung shares how hard it’s been for him starting at a new job. 

 

“I’ll be there more often for you,” Minho promises, stroking over the back of Jisung’s hand, warmed by the sun. “You shouldn’t need to struggle through this alone.” 

 

“You are there for me,” Jisung says, smiling, “you stayed up to listen to me so many times when you came home late before. We’re doing fine, baby, don’t worry about it.” 

 

“I love you,” Minho says then, voice lower just for Jisung to hear. He says it because it’s true, he says it because the affection in his heart is overwhelming, he says it because he’s got _Jisung_ , the love of his life still with him, and there’s nothing really more that he could ask for. 

 

“I love you too,” Jisung says, quiet, but his eyes shine bright and warm and that alone says more than any words can. 

 

When the food arrives, Jisung’s attention is averted immediately, and he picks up his fork, but then a loud _snap_ goes off and he flushes, groans a little. “Do you still need to take a photo of me? You always do this!” 

 

“Sorry,” Minho says, but Jisung doesn’t really mean anything in his complaint, and he knows it. “Well, let’s eat now!” 

 

The food is good and they’re sated, and the weather is beautiful, all late summer sunshine and cool breeze rippling through their hair when they exit the cafe, hands tightly interlocked together. They take the long way back home, routing through a few more streets than necessary to soak in the sunshine, and really, it had been so _long_ since Minho came out, could come on a date with Jisung, and he feels so _happy_. 

 

Jisung’s talking at high speed beside him, excitedly chattering about some artists Minho knows is his favourite, and he listens attentively, occasionally chipping in with information he knows and even though his music taste is different from Jisung’s, he’d listen to Jisung talk like this all day, because it makes Jisung happy. 

 

“You’re beautiful,” Minho says, breathless, even though they hadn’t run and all he was doing was looking at Jisung. They’re almost home now, their apartment building in sight, and yet Minho can’t contain his emotions till they get back. “You really are, I love you so much.” 

 

Jisung laughs, bright and airy and loud, like summer itself, and chimes like bells in Minho’s ears. “And you’re gorgeous. I love you so much, I didn’t know I could love someone so much.” His eyes are the colour of the bark of oak trees warmed by decades of sunrises, swirling with emotion and affection and _love_ and Minho can’t look away. “I love you so much I don’t know what to do with it,” Jisung says, almost fierce, like he can’t emphasise it strongly enough. 

 

“Love me,” Minho tells him, taking Jisung into his arms even though they’re on the street in broad daylight, “and love yourself. If you knew how much I love you…” 

 

There’s a pause, then Jisung kisses the corner of his mouth. “I love you as much as I love the colour yellow,” He says, light dancing in his eyes. 

 

“Yellow?” Minho asks, curious, but it suits him. 

 

“Yes. Because yellow’s bright, and it’s the colour of a lot of things in nature, and it’s such a happy colour! It’s a beautiful colour and it makes me happy and I love it, like I love you.” 

 

Minho draws in a breath. “Then, you’re my yellow.” 

 

Jisung’s smile, breaking so largely over his face when they’re standing on the pavement a few hundred metres away from their apartment, is something Minho will never forget. Maybe it’s the specialness that has suddenly become of a mundane weekend, maybe it’s the vivacity in which Jisung’s smile blooms, maybe it’s the way they exchanged _i love yous_ like no one was watching. 

 

Maybe it’s just because it’s _Jisung_ , and anything can become special when they’re doing it together. 

 

The weekend passes fast, and Minho holds onto memories of it like a beacon in the night, because he’s swamped with work as soon as Monday arrives, and he drags himself home late more often than not, usually to a dark home and Jisung already fast asleep, duvet kicked open on one side like he had fallen asleep waiting for him. 

 

Before he knows it, it’s Thursday and MInho’s seriously wondering why he hasn’t had a mental breakdown yet, with all the stress he’s been having. It’s a blessing that the shoots are finally drying up, and he only has two more tomorrow, which means his usual time off work tomorrow. Today, however, is as long as ever, and his colleagues attest for them when he sees them in the coffee room at seven in the evening, of all hours.

 

“Cheers,” Moonbin says, looking more asleep than awake, and chugs down the whole mug of black coffee in one go. Jungwoo’s nodding off against the coffee machine, and Minho removes his hand from the general vicinity of coffee splashes. 

 

“Late shoots?” Minho asks, a touch of dryness in his voice. 

 

“Like you wouldn’t believe it,” Moonbin says, exhaustion leaking into his voice. “If next season is like this I’m asking Them to do the damn shoots themselves.” Them, being management that book the idols, who have no idea how long nor how demanding shoots take, and while they’re usually nice, they must have wanted more up-and-coming idols this season, hence the influx. 

 

“Well, I’m off now,” Minho says, neither in the mood for coffee or company, “Jungwoo’s about to knock the machine over so watch him.” 

 

Minho finishes the shoots with a worsening mood, courtesy of hunger and exhaustion, but he masks it with a smile and does his utmost best to not take it out on anyone - why would he, they didn’t do anything to him - and tells all the idols and staff that they did a good job, lasting throughout the day with no major hiccups. 

 

By the time they’ve all packed up and stowed the equipment away, it’s almost ten, and Minho’s seriously considering just camping overnight in the company or something, like some of the photographers do when they have a late shoot today and early shoot the next day, but he goes home because he’d rather have four hours of sleep with Jisung beside him than five hours of sleep here. 

 

When he gets home, the lights downstairs are off, as usual, but upstairs, Jisung’s reading a book in their bed, night lamp turned on. 

 

“Welcome home,” Jisung greets softly, closing his book and yawning a little, “thought I’d wait for you today because I finished a little late today too.” 

 

“Fussy client?” Minho asks, picking out his sleepwear. 

 

“You could say that. The things they ask for just don’t make sense sometimes.” Jisung yawns again and Minho decides it’s past bedtime for the both of them. 

 

“Let’s sleep,” Minho says, his voice cracking a little with how he hasn’t drunk anything for the past two hours, and in hindsight, he should have gotten a glass of water before he came up. 

 

Jisung reaches over to the nightstand and passes him a glass of water. “Good night, baby.” He flails a hand out to switch the night lamp off as Minho puts the glass down on his side of the nightstand, and then they settle down together, tugging the duvet and lying as close as they can without being too hot. 

 

“Night, _jagiya,_ ” Minho murmurs, mind going over how he has two shoots tomorrow, how he has to separate the groups, what concept they’re doing, if the lighting that was damaged last week will finally be repaired today… he’s asleep before he can even start worrying about any of those. 

 

Friday morning dawns rainy, with autumn starting to settle in properly, and Jisung throws himself out the door once he’s sure Minho’s woken up and eaten breakfast. “Early meeting today!” He says, then kisses Minho in lieu of saying goodbye. 

 

Minho’s kept busy the whole day with the shoots, flurrying back and forth to change the lighting and direct the designers to change the costumes and telling the waiting idols where to go and what to do. It’s hard work, but it’s also work that he has come to genuinely enjoy, and his hours are often unpredictable and strange, but he loves it, and that’s hard to come by, so he counts himself lucky. 

 

“Pizza in the break room,” Jungwoo says as he stops by Minho’s set, smelling like grease and burnt coffee, though he looks significantly more alert than yesterday. “Treat from Them because we’ve been working so hard, apparently.” 

 

“The pizza’s going to have a contract baked into it,” Minho says, but follows Jungwoo anyway after he makes sure the rest of the staff have finished their packing for this shoot. 

 

“They wouldn’t do that to pizza,” Jungwoo says, scandalised, and Minho wonders from which idol he learned that tone from. 

 

“I’d do anything for pizza,” Minho says vaguely. 

 

“Pizza isn’t going to make me stay until ten for a shoot,” Jungwoo counters, and Minho supposes he isn’t wrong in the slightest bit. 

 

“Sucks to be you,” Minho says, grabbing two slices and making his way out before someone else can say hi to him, or worse, _have a conversation_ . Jungwoo makes a face and makes a _call you later_ gesture that Minho agrees to, because Jungwoo has shoots until late tonight and needs someone to keep him sane. 

 

Lunchbreak is over too fast for Minho’s liking and then he’s back to working, setting up props for the shoot - one of the lighting fixtures is still not fixed so they’ll have to deal with it like how they always have - and he fields the questions some of the idols and costuming staff have. A good thing about shoots is that they go fast when nothing goes wrong, and he even gets to shoot the warm-up shoots and some b-side sets, so he considers it a win for all. 

 

And the day really becomes a win when he goes home on time for once, and he arrives at the same time as Jisung, and they tumble through the front door together, laughing and squeezing against each other. 

 

“Welcome home,” Minho says for once, the words a little foreign in his mouth, “how was work?” 

 

“I’m home,” Jisung says, smile not only on his lips but also in his eyes, and yes, they’re home. 

 

Just as Minho promised, the season’s passed and he more-or-less goes back to his normal working hours, though his hours are always a little more inconsistent and more flexible once it’s off-season. Jisung, on the other hand, starts becoming a little more stressed, the new client he’s dealing with seemingly more than just stubborn. 

 

“The team is dying,” Jisung grumbles one weekend after the season ends. “Stupid ass clients who don’t know what they’re asking for.” 

 

Minho kisses him - and if they spend the whole afternoon cuddling and kissing, that’s because Jisung’s stressed. 

 

It’s almost evening when Jisung’s phone sounds obnoxiously with a message, and Jisung reaches for his phone with a complaining sound, reading the message. “Hey… Felix asked if I want to celebrate my birthday with us so everyone can go to dinner! What do you think?” 

 

“This is _your_ birthday,” Minho says, laughing a little and nuzzling into the juncture of Jisung’s neck and shoulder. 

 

Jisung hums and thinks for a while, thumbs hovering over his keyboard. “If we celebrate together it’ll be easier for everyone… wait, I’ll text Lix.” Jisung goes quiet for a while, typing furiously and switching between his chat and the calendar app, leaving Minho to nuzzle more fiercely into Jisung. 

 

“What are you, a cat?” Jisung asks when he gets ticklish, giggling when Minho presses a sweet kiss to the side of his neck. 

 

“You’re warm,” Minho says childishly. “Go back to your texting and let me have this.” 

 

Jisung sighs, so heavy that’s it’s fond, and goes back to texting Felix, hand occasionally coming to scratch at Minho’s scalp. It takes less than ten minutes for Jisung and Felix to finalise their sudden plan, and a message is sent into the dead chat that has all of their friends, and Minho groans when his own phone starts buzzing at top speed on the coffee table. 

 

“Now I’m gonna mute the chat again… what have you done?” 

 

“Arranged a birthday dinner,” Jisung says triumphantly, kissing Minho in celebration. “It’s gonna be on Felix’s birthday, and hopefully everyone can attend. Then I can spend my actual birthday with you!” 

 

“You’re going to see your parents the same morning, right?” Minho asks, just to check again. 

 

“Oh, yeah. I told you, right?” 

 

“How else would I know?” Minho asks, a little incredulous. Jisung laughs at his expression and tackles him on his back onto the couch. 

 

“Slipped my mind,” Jisung says, smiling, and when he dips down to kiss Minho properly, he can feel his kiss against his lips. It’s Minho’s second favourite feeling, next only to feeling Jisung’s warm against his when they’re sleeping. 

 

The Saturday their dinner is arranged for arrives fast, and Minho spends a considerable amount of time texting their friends, most of whom he had ignored when it was shooting season, and they’re fairly happy to see that he’s actually alive, even Changbin, who had sworn up and down he didn’t care for anyone or anything. 

 

Felix sent a picture of him cuddled with his Munchlax plushie into the chat as proof of receipt. Needless to say, it was one of Felix’s most crowning moments. 

 

Jisung leaves to go back to his parent’s house after breakfast, promising to be back by the late afternoon. Minho shooes him off, knowing Jisung had missed his parents a lot, especially with all the happenings lately, from graduating to moving in to starting a new job. 

 

“You sure you can’t come along?” Jisung asks, lingering in the doorway, “My parents really want to see you again, you know.” 

 

Minho tries not to smile too largely. “I can go another day, _jagiya_. This is your birthday, you should spend it with your parents! Go on, get out, I see your face everyday already.” 

 

“And this face loves you,” Jisung says, smacking a loud kiss against Minho’s cheek just to annoy him further. “See you later, baby!” 

 

“Whatever, love you too,” Minho says, scowling a little, and watches Jisung go down the stairs until he can’t see him anymore before closing the door. Once alone, he crosses over to his bag and pulls out a leather photo book, almost full with pictures, the cover a soft, dark yellow, and he flicks through it, coming to a stop on a page with only one picture in it as of yet. 

 

Minho considers the blank spaces for a while, then he whirls into action, grabbing his phone, keys and wallet before replacing the photo book in his bag in case Jisung comes back, and he leaves their apartment, locking the door behind him. 

 

Sure, maybe he’s cutting it a little fine by only finishing Jisung’s birthday present a day before the actual day, but Jisung leaving to find his parents had given Minho the perfect opportunity to finish preparing his present without offering up some fishy excuse and making Jisung suspicious and then Jisung would find out about the present he had painstakingly worked on for the past three weeks. 

 

Three weeks, because that was when Jisung told him he loves him as much as he loved yellow, and the shoots he had that Wednesday had yellow photo books used on sets, and he had a photo of Jisung from every date they had ever been on and - everything had just come together so perfectly. 

 

So, for the past few weeks Minho had been out shopping himself in the little free time he could squeeze out on the days he worked, and eventually bought a leather photo book which was a perfect yellow colour, soft to the touch but sturdy enough that it felt like it would last generations. 

 

The next step had been to actually print the photos out, and it was at these times that Minho was glad he was a photographer. He had been able to ask around and call in favours to get his photos printed, and that was left to do was to go and pick them up. Still, he hadn’t managed to escape the teasing from his coworkers about printing out what seemed like hundreds of photos of Jisung. 

 

“Your boyfriend is so lucky,” One of his other coworkers had said. Her name was Yein and she worked with the editing team, and so was the one to help Minho find someone to print his photos. “You guys are really so sweet.” 

 

“Tell me about it,” Moonbin said, once again all up in Minho’s business. 

 

Minho had put up with all the teasing, because they were his friends, and they had also done a huge favour for him, for which he was incredibly grateful for. 

 

Which is why he finds himself riding the subway and squeezing with the weekend crowd to find the shop Yein had told him to go to. The shop itself isn’t hard to find once Minho gets his directions straight, but the grin the shopkeeper gives him when he pays for the photos is something else entirely. 

 

“Thanks,” Minho says, not looking at the cashier’s eyes. 

 

“Tell Yein to come over when she’s free,” The cashier says, handing over his photos, “tell her it’s Jisoo who asked.” 

 

“Will do,” Minho says, wondering if he’s about to become a page boy between the two of them. 

 

He doesn’t look at the photos until he goes back, and he’d been pleased to find that Jisoo had arranged all of them perfectly, in the order that Minho sent them over, which meant they were in chronological order, making his life that much easier.

 

For the rest of the afternoon, Minho busies himself with slotting the photos in and writing a small message under each one, dating the pictures as he goes along. In each and every one, Jisung’s smile is bright, incredibly so, and it makes him happy just by looking at it. He slides the last photo in - the one he had taken when they were having brunch three weeks ago - and finishes it with a sweet message, placing it back in his bag just in time for the sound of keys jingling outside to signal that Jisung’s home.  

 

“I’m home,” Jisung sings, a bright smile on his face to accompany his song. “What have you been doing?” 

 

“What do you think?” Minho asks, standing up and letting Jisung hug him tightly. 

 

“Nothing,” Jisung says seriously, and Minho laughs, endeared. 

 

“I guess I was… we have to get ready for dinner now, they want to meet at six, don’t they?” A look at the clock tells them that it’s closer to five than four, and so Jisung goes to take a shower while Minho waits. 

 

“Why didn’t you shower before I came back?” 

 

“... And what, miss you coming back? In your dreams.” 

 

Jisung laughs at that and disappears into the bathroom. Minho congratulates himself for thinking fast and goes to check his phone, seeing that the rest of them had spammed the chat and were studiously ignoring Changbin’s increasingly frantic questions about which restaurant they would be meeting at. Minho doesn’t tell him that the name of the restaurant, date and time are all set as the group name because everyone has an issue with remembering things. 

 

When Jisung comes out, he brings with him the warmth of the steam as well as the fresh smell of their body wash, and gestures for Minho to start his own shower. They get ready fast, slipping on button-up shirts and nicer jeans for the dinner, and set out with twenty minutes to spare, by when Jisung has caught up with the influx of messages in the group. 

 

“Do you think Changbin-hyung knows how to get there?” Jisung asks as they get into Minho’s car.

 

“He’s got Felix,” Minho says vaguely, backing out of the parking lot, “he’ll be fine. Or maybe you’ll be missing both one of the birthday boys and his boyfriend at your dinner. How were your parents?” 

 

Jisung’s monologue about his day with his parents carries them all the way to the restaurant, where Woojin and Chan are already waiting for them outside. As Minho pulls into the lot, another car slots in beside them, and Changbin and Felix come out of it, the former looking as disgruntled as one possible could. 

 

“None of you told me it was the group's name,” Is Changbin’s greeting when everyone gathered is in earshot, “this is bullying!” 

 

“It’s a lesson in observation skills,” Chan says severely, but there’s a smile threatening to burst out at the corner of his lips, indicating he finds the whole situation as funny as the rest of them. 

 

“Chan-hyung, my old roommate!” Minho cries out, then launches himself into Chan’s arms. “Do you miss me? I’ve never slept so well without your nightly interruptions of random music, you know?” 

 

“And I loved it when you came back around midnight because of your shoots,” Chan shoots back, “most exemplary roommate award goes to Lee Minho!” 

 

“I’m flattered,” Minho says, “because you certainly don’t deserve it.” He dodges Chan’s punch without even batting an eye, and that’s when Hyunjin, Seungmin and Jeongin turn up. 

 

“Please don’t fight in the parking lot,” Woojin says, “have some decency. Do it on the rooftop.” 

 

“You should _not_ be promoting this kind of behaviour!” Chan squawks, and they lead the way into the restaurant, where Jisung butts in and tells the waiter what name they booked the table under. They make their way to the back of the restaurant, still as noisy as ever, and the night’s already shaping up to be fun and lively, and this is all that Jisung could ever ask for. 

 

The chat continues all the way over them ordering and even when the food comes, everyone sharing stories and having someone else butt in on them, stories being told from countering points and almost leading to a squabble, and it all feels so familiar that Jisung could drown in it. It’s getting late - almost nine, and they should go before the restaurant closes - and Jisung’s basking in the glow of having his friends around, of having good food, of having a laugh with everyone that has become so dear to him in all these years. 

 

The gift-giving commences ten minutes later when everyone realises it’s almost time to go. 

 

Jisung ends up receiving a joint gift from Woojin and Chan, something book-shaped from Changbin, something soft from Felix, and a mixture of wrapped boxes and ribboned packages from the rest of his friends, all of which he thanks them profusely for. He and Minho give Felix his present - a pair of headphones, because Felix’s been complaining about his for a while, and with how often he uses them to play games, it can’t be good for his hearing. 

 

Everyone departs at a quarter to ten, after many hugs and plans to meet up again soon - probably for Minho’s birthday, at this rate - and the drive back is soothing in its silence after the hours of talking and non-stop noise. Jisung’s absentmindedly squishing whatever Felix’s present is and crinkling the wrapping paper when something occurs to him. 

 

“Hey, did you get me something?” Jisung asks quietly, fatigue starting to settle in at this point. 

 

Minho gives a short nod, keeping his eyes on the road. “It’s at home. I’ll give it to you… if you can stay awake by the time we get back,” He says, looking over at Jisung when he stops at a red light. 

 

“Of course I will be!” Jisung says indignantly, sitting up straight and rubbing his eyes to get the sleep out of them. “I wanna see what you got me.” 

 

“I hope you’ll like it,” Minho says softly, and then he starts driving again as the light turns green. Outside the car, the street lamps bathe the car in intermittent streams of yellow and gold, and even though Minho is as tired as him, Jisung can’t help but admire how he looks under the light, shadow and light interplaying with each other as the car moves along. 

 

“I’d like anything you get me,” Jisung says, truthful.

 

Minho smiles, soft, and they settle back into comfortable silence. When they arrive home and stumble all the way back up to their apartment, Jisung’s buzzing with excitement and suspense, wondering what Minho got for him. He’s expecting maybe a book, or some brushes, and Minho leaves him to fetch the present as he sets the ones he had already received down on the coffee table. 

 

“Happy birthday, _jagiya_ ,” Minho says, smiling a little nervously and sitting down beside Jisung. 

 

“Thank you, baby,” Jisung says reverently, taking the book from Minho had turning it over and over in his hands. It’s leather, he can tell that, and the yellow of the leather is soft and calming, like sunflowers in the dark of the dawn before the sun rises. “It’s beautiful,” He says, fingers tracing over the embossed cover. 

 

“You haven’t even opened it yet,” Minho says, “open it!” 

 

So he does, urged on by Minho. He doesn’t know what he was expecting - a covered book or something similar - but he doesn’t expect it to be a photobook, let alone a photobook full of _his_ photos, taken by Minho. Under each photo is the date it was taken on and a small message in Minho’s familiar penmanship, and as he flicks through the pages, he notes that they’re arranged in chronological order, all the way from their first date at the amusement park to the date they had just a few weeks ago, in the small cafe. 

 

“I took a photo of you on every date we went on,” Minho explains as Jisung reads the messages, “and I thought it’d be nice for you to have a record of all of them… do you like it?” There’s a tightness to his voice like he thinks Jisung wouldn’t like this, wouldn’t like that he thought of this, wouldn’t like all the effort he put into putting this together, wouldn’t like all the messages and sweet words and thoughts that he wrote for each and every single photo. 

 

Jisung’s finger lingers on two photos side by side. The first one, taken at the restaurant for the first anniversary - he still remembers how Minho looked in his suit, and how he had tied the ribbon for him, and the way Minho had blushed when the waiter brought out the cake; and the second one, when they walked around town and went back to cuddle - now, Jisung remembers Minho’s mouth, stained with ice cream, the purple of his hair glowing in the sunlight, how Minho had looked when they woke up after napping their anniversary away - and Jisung can feel the tears building in his eyes. 

 

“I _love_ this,” Jisung says, and he doesn’t care that his voice cracks or that he might be crying a little, “I love this so much, baby, you - I - this is _amazing_ , I love it.” 

 

“Oh, thank god,” Minho utters, relieved, and Jisung smacks his arm lightly. 

 

“How can you think I won’t like this? This is amazing, all the work you put in! And you even bought the book in yellow… you remembered.” 

 

“Of course I did,” Minho says, smiling so sweetly that Jisung can’t help but lean close and press a kiss to his mouth. “I always remember things about you,” He admits, blush coming to settle over the highs of his cheeks even after a year and more of being together, and Jisung stands by every single word he had said on the pavement in the sunshine three weeks ago. 

 

Minho is his yellow. 

 

Minho is his yellow in the way his eyes shine like he has the entire universe in them; Minho is his yellow in the way when he smiles the whole room can light up; Minho is his yellow in the way he never fails to make him happy, no matter how bad his day is or how sad he gets sometimes; Minho is his yellow in the way that he is happy and cheerful but also mellow and soothing, and he is all and everything that Jisung loves. 

 

“I love you,” Jisung says, barely a whisper, and oh, when did he start crying? 

 

“I love you too,” Minho says, wiping his tears away and kissing his cheeks where the tears had slid down. “Happy birthday, _jagiya_. I hope I always get to celebrate your birthdays with you.” 

 

Jisung just takes Minho’s hand in his eyes, lacing their fingers tightly. “I hope I will always love you,” He says, and then what he says next takes Minho’s breath away with the ferocity of it. “I will _always_ love you, I know it.” 

 

And when Jisung leans in to kiss Minho right there, on their small sofa with only a lamp light on to let them see, Minho tastes like warmth and wine, but he also tastes like home and love and _Minho_ , and if they spend the remainder of the night kissing well into the early morning of Jisung’s actual birthday - that’s for them to know.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> literally thought purple was my fav colour my whole life but it was yellow all the time i played myself anyway tell me ur fav colour and if you enjoyed this chapter!!! next chapter is also a bright, warm colour and i think yall will rly rly like the next one hehehehhee (winkwink) have a beautiful august everyone <3

**Author's Note:**

> talk to me on tumblr @stay-serenity!! have a nice day guys <3


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